


American Beauty/American Psycho

by Social_Resistance



Series: Wrong Side of Paradise [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Antonia Stark - Freeform, Avengers - Freeform, Baby Peter Parker, Dark Steve Rogers, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Female Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Marked Mature just in case, No explicit underage, Past Underage, Physical Abuse, Rule 63, Toni Stark - Freeform, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Social_Resistance/pseuds/Social_Resistance
Summary: Toni Stark thought she had finally escaped the violence-filled world of her ex-husband, Steve Rogers. With no word from him for over a year, she and her son Peter were content to live in their humble apartment. She should have known it was too good to be true. Old friends return, and new enemies emerge as Toni tries to keep Peter and herself safe.





	1. And I’m the Best Worst Thing That Hasn’t Happened to You Yet…

_The first time Steve Rogers met Antonia Natasha Stark was at a fundraiser. He was a business man after all, and public appearances were important. Especially when the cause was as near and dear to his heart as this one; caring for veterans was important. They’d done so much for this wonderful country, and some of Steve’s men had served, unable to settle into civilian life again. His best friend served, became a Sergeant in the army, and then returned home…only to be taken from him again._

_But, that was all in the past. Bucky was at his side once more, acting as a bodyguard as Steve made his way around the room, greeting the other ‘legitimate’ businessmen of New York. Hell, some of them were actually legit, while others were as dirty as he was, and still others…dabbled. Steve caught sight of one of the famous dabblers and was about to make his way over when his eyes caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye._

_Steve didn’t know much about dresses, but the deep red color looked wonderful against her tanned skin. Her dark hair was done beautifully, long curls cascading down her shoulders and to her bare back, where the back of the dress opened up to reveal what seemed like miles of perfect skin. Steve felt the urge to pull those straps aside and see if that skin was as soft as the satin covering it. He wanted to see what her legs looked like under the long skirt of the dress. Then she turned her head, and Steve could only see half her face, but her lips were a bright red and her eyes a warm brown that drew him in._

_Steve was smitten, and he didn’t even know her name._

_Bucky followed his gaze and smirked. “She’s too gorgeous to be coming here alone, buddy,” he pointed out. “She’s probably married to some rich old man.” As if that would deter Steve._

_“Yeah, right…” Steve agreed noncommittally as his blue eyes followed her._

_The young woman crossed the room, two drinks in hand, and handed one to the dabbler he’d been walking toward earlier._

_Howard Stark._

_Steve frowned in confusion. “Didn’t know Howard was shacking up with anyone after his first wife died."_

_Bucky shrugged. “Why don’t you go ask?” He nodded to the pair and they both watched as the young woman walked away._

_Steve figured he might as well, if only to find out the enchanting creature’s name. It was funny, him waxing poetic about a woman he knew nothing about, whose name he didn’t even know. Maybe he was a closet romantic._

_Steve approached Howard with a smile. “Howard, you don’t usually attend these sorts of events. Imagine my surprise when I see you,” He gestured with his own drink toward the woman in red. “And your date.”_

_“Yes, well, the company’s image has been suffering as of late, and I thought it best to drum up some good press,” Howard replied. “Hm?” he hummed around his glass as he took a sip. “My daughter, Toni. She’s the one who convinced me to come.”_

_Toni…what an odd name for a woman, especially one of status. Still, Steve had heard something about Howard having a daughter, he just, never thought she’d be so grown-up or beautiful. “She’s beautiful,” he voiced his thoughts. “Must take after her mother.”_

_Howard laughed politely. “She’s fair like her mother but she has my coloring, the poor thing.”_

_Steve laughed along. “I’d say she turned out alright.” His eyes followed her again. She was talking to some kid…Tiberius Stone? Steve couldn’t remember the punk’s name, but he was new money and fed with a silver spoon. Steve hated spoiled brats like him. They didn’t know how good they had it, didn’t have to build anything from the ground up…just survived on their Daddy’s money._

_“She’ll make me go gray before long,” Howard lamented after another long pull from his glass. “She’s a sophomore at MIT. Stays there most of the year.”_

_“MIT?” Steve asked, surprised. “How old is she?”_

_There was a beat, Howard drinking more of his scotch, before replying. “Twenty-one. She started school a year later because she wanted to help me with the company.”_

_Steve was twenty-nine, and looking for someone to start a family with. He thought it was about time he had an heir, someone to leave all this to. Otherwise Bucky would inherit it, and while Steve loved the man like a brother…it just wasn’t the same. Steve had built his empire from the ground up, and he wanted the Rogers name to continue on._

_“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll ask your lovely daughter to dance,” Steve grinned at Howard, though there was a sharp edge to it that there hadn’t been before._

_“Good luck prying her away from Stone. They’ve been friends for years.”_

_Steve found that a little odd, considering the age difference between the two…but he shrugged and said nothing. Steve was only here through his own hard work and merit, not because he had a family name worth remembering. He had to make his name be remembered, be remarkable. He was building a legacy._

_A legacy that couldn’t pass onto anyone if he had no children._

_Perhaps he found his solution._

_Tiberius Stone seemed to understand that he wouldn’t be wanted in mere moments. Steve watched him excuse himself from Toni, and the confused furrow of her brows was adorable. He picked up two glasses from a passing tray and walked up to her._

_“Hello,” Steve greeted, all charm._

_Toni flicked her eyes over his form, taking him in from his shoes to his perfectly coiffed hair. It sent a thrill through him, to see those eyes assessing him the way he’d assessed her only moments ago. There was a light in those eyes, a spark he usually didn’t see when women spoke to him. Most feared him, but Toni…acted as though she had no idea who he was, as though he were just another associate of her father._

_For some reason, he liked the idea. He liked that she seemed to see right through him with those keen eyes of hers._  
_“Hello,” she returned, pleasant enough though her voice was wary._

_“We haven’t formerly met before. I’m Steve Rogers,” he held out his hand._

_Toni took it and shook, her grip frim and warm. “Toni Stark.”_

_Steve turned her hand and kissed the back of it. “A pleasure to meet you.”_

_“You’re only saying that because I’ve yet to get gray in my hair.”_

_Steve raised an eyebrow. Toni was…teasing him? Clearly, she had no idea who he was, or she’d be terrified, she wouldn’t dare mock him._

_He liked it._

_“Well, that may be true,” he conceded, trying to fight a smile as he continued on in a serious tone. “But gray hair or not, you seem to possess a confidence that women here twice your age don’t have.”_

_“I’ve got to, as the only heir to Stark Industries,” Toni replied, taking the drink when he offered it to her._

_“I suppose so,” Steve replied as he sipped his own drink._

_“Rogers…” Toni dragged the name out as though she were trying to remember something. “You’ve got a hand in a lot of different businesses, built yourself from the ground up. Started out…” she frowned in thought, Steve thought it was adorable. “Wait! Don’t tell me,” she held up a finger for a moment before a grin lit her face. “First invested in a pizza shop, which is odd, considering your Irish roots.”_

_Steve blinked, stunned and simultaneously impressed by this woman._

_Toni’s grin gentled, looking a bit more self-conscious. “Sorry…I like to know who I’m surrounded by when I go to these things. Drives Howard up a wall.”_

_Steve noted that Toni didn’t call Howard ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’. Interesting…though Howard’s home life had always been the subject of scorn and rumors. It was no secret that the man had been an abusive drunk toward his wife, downright belligerent and rowdy when he deigned to show up to board meetings (always drunk), and it would surprise no one to hear that his daughter suffered the same treatment._

_“So,” Toni prompted, drawing Steve from his thoughts. “Have I scared you away yet?” Her tone was light, and so different from what he was used to hearing._

_He managed a chuckle and shook his head. “It’s going to take more than that to frighten me, Miss Stark.”_

_“Don’t make it sound like a challenge. I can’t turn those down.”_

_Steve raised a brow over his glass as he finished the drink. “Well then,” he gently took her empty glass and put it down on the table beside his. “I’d like to ask you for a dance.”_

XxX

_After they danced, they decided to get some air on a balcony. Steve danced with many a woman in his time, but none of them had ever fit quite…right, the way Toni did. She was small, and delicate. He was sure if he squeezed hard enough he could snap the bones of her wrist. Toni Stark didn’t act delicate. She was a young woman full of contradictions. Her hands were calloused from what he could only assume were long hours in the lab, yet the rest of her skin was as soft as he imagined. Toni held herself with pride, yet had this spark, this…spunk, that the other women in high society didn’t. It drew him in, made him want to see what made her tick, what put those thoughtful looks on her face and what was behind that coy little smile._

_Toni gripped his shoulder tightly, drawing Steve from his introspection and turning bright blue eyes to her._

_“Sorry,” she apologized. “Just…one second.”_

_Steve watched as she reached down and took off first one heel, and then the other. When she was finished it made her a lot shorter than him, and though he very rarely ever used this word in his life, the effect was…adorable. Steve didn’t bother hiding his smile._

_“You lasted a lot longer in those than I would have,” he decided to go the charming, teasing route._

_Toni rolled her eyes. “I hate them, but my height is a detriment to the Stark status.”_

_Steve couldn’t help but snort at that. Toni looked up at him, pleasantly surprised._

_“Looks like you’re not as stiff as the other suits,” she commented._

_Steve was about to reply when Howard’s voice filtered through the doors of the balcony. Toni sighed and bent down to slip into her heels again. “Duty calls,” she muttered._

_Steve nodded and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Toni Stark.”_

_Toni blushed, and Steve wasn’t used to getting such an innocent reaction to something so simple. “Thank you for the company, Mr. Steve Rogers.”_

_Steve watched her walk off, his eyes lingering even after she slipped back to her father’s side. Bucky found him still staring after her a few minutes later._

_“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft since you’ve met his kid,” his best friend sighed. “You’re still gonna go through with the plan, right?”_

_Steve nodded absently. Toni Stark was definitely interesting. She had this sort of childlike innocence and womanly confidence all wrapped in a tiny little package that was full of surprises._

_Steve wanted her._

_“Oh, no. Everything’s going to proceed. I just have some new incentive…"_


	2. The Best Worst Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni just wanted to be left left alone, but now her ex-husband's kidnapped her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter two! This takes place in the present, while the first chapter took place in the past. Warnings for this include referenced abuse.

Steven Grant Rogers was a very busy man. He didn’t often stop his business to take personal calls, especially when he was in the middle of a transaction...especially one as important as this. He glanced up from the mound of papers at his desk to see his little boy playing with Bucky’s hair. His mouth twisted into a smile before turning back to his work. Peter looked a lot better since they’d picked him up that afternoon. Everything would be alright now. Once they got a few problems sorted out of course…

Speaking of, one of those ‘problems’ was calling him on his phone. A personal call…he grinned wolfishly as he stared at the name, one he hadn’t seen light his screen in almost a year, before picking it up.

“Hello, Toni.”

“Where is he?”

Oh, he loved hearing that voice. That tight, trembling, almost watery lilting that spilled from her lips when she was trying not to scream or cry. He’d heard it many times before, and hearing it again after so long was refreshing.

“Where’s who, sweetheart?” he asked, all innocence and concern…though, she’d always hated nicknames.

“You know who. My son. Where is P—”

“ _Our_ son,” he cut in, his blue eyes drifting to the boy on the couch again. Peter seemed happy enough, though his eyes were still a little red and swollen from his tears. At least the six-year-old wasn’t crying anymore. “He’s our son, Toni, and I’m not going to let you keep him from me anymore.”

“You weren’t even there when he was born.”

Steve allowed the barb to roll over him, refusing to react audibly. “I was in a firefight, Toni. It wasn’t by choice. As if you’re one to talk with all the drinking you did. Couldn’t even breastfeed him half the time.” She should have known better than to try and attack first. He was better. He would always be better at causing pain…especially when it came to her.

There was a pause, and Steve could picture her wincing. “That’s not… _you_ drove me to drink. If you’d stopped hitting me—”

“If you listened,” he cut in quickly, already knowing this argument. Steve always won it. “I wouldn’t have hit you.” Strictly speaking, that wasn’t exactly true. Sometimes she hadn’t done anything, but Steve had needed an outlet, and Toni—well, she was weak and small and so easily breakable. She was perfect.

“It wasn’t only when I drank, or didn’t listen,” she protested, voicing his thoughts.

Steve hummed but didn’t confirm or deny what she said.

“You were never around anyway. You were always working,” Toni continued on, still in that trembling tone.

Steve shook his head. “I was doing that for you and Peter, for my family.” This was another old argument that he was tired of having. “I gave you everything anyone could want, and you were never happy.” He’d bought her expensive clothes, jewelry, shoes…he had boys working for him that would literally kill for the kind of life Toni had as his wife. 

“Regardless, Toni. You called for a reason,” he prompted.

“Give him back.”

“No.”

Silence met his answer, and he could picture her pretty face twisted up with worry and fear. “You have to—you’re not authorized for unsupervised visitation.”

He laughed at her, loud and full-bodied. Bucky looked over and raised a brow; Peter looked startled and stared at him. It hadn’t been a nice sound after all. He smiled to quell the kid’s fears. Though that might have made things worse, given the expression Peter gave him after he did. Steve spun around in his chair and spoke in a lower tone. “That’s cute, sweetheart, really. You think a piece of paper can tell me what to do.” He leaned back in his chair. “You can try to go to the police if you want, but they can’t do anything.” Steve had most of them on his payroll. The pigs wouldn’t do shit against him.

“You can’t do this,” she seemed to be at a loss to say anything else. “You can’t keep him from me.”

“I can, and I will,” Steve replied easily. “He’s my son too. You shouldn’t have taken him away from me.” Dumb bitch should have known better than to try and leave him. She should have known she couldn’t cut him out of her life so easily…especially when she took his son.

“You can’t—give him back, Steve. Please,” Toni begged, sounding as though she were on the verge of tears. “You can’t take him away from me.”

“ _You_ took him away from _me_ , Toni,” Steve snapped, voice harsher than he meant it to be. He took a breath and closed his eyes. Losing his composure like that wouldn’t do, especially not in front of his kid.

“Please, Steve. I’ll—I’ll do anything. Whatever you want. Just give him back.”

Well, well, wasn’t that interesting? He knew he could get her right where he wanted her. It had just taken a little…force. Toni usually had to be forced when it came to most things. Of course, she knew what he was capable of, that if he really wanted to keep Peter away, he could. Very few officials in the city of New York weren’t on his payroll and under his thumb. He knew she’d come to see his way of thinking. After all, the woman was supposed to be a genius.

“Anything?” he repeated, though the word held so much more meaning.

“Anything,” Toni agreed quickly. “Just give Peter back.”

Steve could fault Toni for a lot of things, but she had always been a wonderful mother to their son. He knew that Peter was her first and only priority in life; the only thing she had left. She would always take care of him, even at risk to herself.

“I want to see him. No more keeping him from me, Toni. No more hiding out in that shitty apartment of yours. I want to see my son, whenever I want.”

“Not so hidden since I know you have a guard on us at all times,” Toni replied.

He never accused Toni of being unobservant, just stupid when it came to listening. “Good to know you’ve been paying attention,” he complimented. “I’ve got Clint and one of the kids watching you in shifts.” He paused, then added. “Bruce just got out of prison. I can put him on guard if you want.” Because the Doc always had a sweet spot for her, and Steve wasn’t completely cruel…Toni could choose her prison guard.

“Clint’s fine,” Toni replied quietly. “Just bring him home, Steve. We can…we can talk when you’re here, OK?”

Steve grinned, wide and wolfish. “Sounds perfect, darling.”

The line cut out, but Steve was still grinning.

“Peter,” he called as he turned around in his chair. He found bright blue eyes, just like his own, staring back at him under a mop of brown hair. “I’m gonna take you back to Mommy now, how’s that sound?”

His son nodded eagerly and jumped off the couch to grab his bag. Bucky looked relieved not to have to entertain him anymore.

Steve grabbed his keys and took Peter’s hand, even though it wasn’t offered.

XxX

Toni was pacing the floor by the time Steve knocked on her door. She practically threw it open and kneeled down, opening her arms to her son. Peter ran into them immediately, dropping his bag and hugging her tightly. “Oh baby,” she whispered, kissing his head and forcing back fresh tears. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” She pulled away to look him over.

“I’m okay, Mommy,” he said. Of course he wasn’t hurt. Daddy never hurt him, he only hurt Mommy. He didn’t know why Mommy looked so scared either. It was just the normal amount of scary that always came with his Daddy and his uncles. Him and Mommy should be used to it…even if they had been gone for a little while. Daddy always came back. Peter stopped wishing he wouldn’t a long time ago, because wishes like that didn’t come true.

Peter reached out and wiped a few tears off his mother’s cheek. “It’s okay, Mommy…’m okay.”

Toni pulled him close again and took a deep breath. She stood, Peter in her arms and finally looked at the man she’d been hiding from for almost a year…or rather, not really hiding, as it turned out. Out of habit, she took a step back. “Why don’t you go start on your homework, honey?’ she whispered to Peter. “I’m gonna talk to Daddy.”

Peter frowned. His parents talking usually meant his Mommy getting hurt. As he was put down he looked between them. If he was bigger, he could make his Daddy stop, but he wasn’t, so he couldn’t. The little boy picked up his schoolbag and walked inside.

Toni squared her shoulders and crossed her arms. “What do you want, Steve?” Her voice was soft, as though she were afraid of being overheard.

Steve looked over the dismal hallway of the apartment building and couldn’t help the way his face scrunched in distaste. “Surely you could have found a better place than this,” he replied instead, turning his attention back to his ex-wife. “It’s not the kind of place I want Peter to be raised in.”

“Believe it or not, Steve, there aren’t many choices when you’re a single mother with a six-year-old to take care of by yourself on a waitress’ salary,” she ran a hand through her hair and looked nervous.

“I gave you everything,” Steve reminded, though it sounded more like he was scolding her. “I bought you anything a woman could want, and you left me.”

“You hit me,” Toni replied, sounding like a broken record. “In front of our son, Steve.” She took a shaky breath. “And I never wanted that life, you know that.”

Steve waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I have more time now. Everything is working just as I want it. We can—”

“ _What_ do you _want_ , Steve?” She had the nerve to cut him off, and she sounded so tired. Poor thing.

“I want a key to your apartment, to start,” he decided, slipping his hand into his pockets.

“To start?”   Toni’s voice was small.

“I’m having Clint put cameras and mics in your apartment,” Steve said, which, really, shouldn’t be surprising to Toni considering he had every inch of their—of his, house covered with cameras and mics.

“We don’t need them,” Toni protested. “We’ve been fine so far and—”

“ _And_ ,” Steve cut in. “Dinner with you, and Peter, tomorrow night.” His tone brokered no room for argument.

Toni took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine…I’ll be right back, just…stay here.” She slipped inside the apartment, and Steve thought it was cute how she was trying to maintain some level of privacy when he’d have all-access to the apartment in mere moments. When she emerged and handed him the key, Steve tried not to look smug.

“I’m asking you not to abuse it,” she whispered.

Steve couldn’t help the patronizing expression when she said stupid things like that. “It’s nothing I couldn’t have gotten on my own. This is just saving me a lot of time.”

Toni nodded, knowing it was true and accepting the reality. “Right.”

Steve looked her over, taking her in from head to toe. She wasn’t wearing anything close to what she would wear for him, but still looked as beautiful as ever. “Wear something pretty, for dinner.”

Toni’s mouth set in a thin line. Steve took her silence for agreement. With that, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “See you tomorrow night.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, taking another step back.

As if that would save her.

XxX

Toni shut and double-locked the door, leaning heavily against it, allowing herself one moment of weakness before she forced a smile for Peter…because everything was fine. Everything was…or, would be, okay. It was just her abusive ex-husband coming around again, the one who always put his ‘business’ before family in the past.

Fuck it. Might as well call a spade a spade. The guy was a mob boss.

Toni never wanted that life. She never wanted anything to do with that life. Her father was involved in it, allowed it to destroy him and his family...and she actively tried to get out. The worst part was, she almost had…if it hadn’t been for Steven Grant Rogers.

But the past was the past. She didn’t have time to think about that now. She had more important things.

“Peter!” she called, making her voice sound lighter than she felt. “Do you have any homework you need to do?”

Peter stuck his head out from the doorway of his bedroom. “No, Mommy!”

Toni smiled. “Great. What do you want for dinner buddy?”

Peter ran into his mother and hugged her legs tightly. She always needed hugs after she talked with Daddy. When he pulled back, the little boy peered up at his mother, checking for bruises. “You’re okay…right Mommy?”

Toni smiled and bent down to hug him. “Yeah baby, I’m okay…Daddy just wanted to talk to me.” She squeezed him tightly once before pulling back. “Tomorrow, Daddy’s going to come over for dinner.”

Peter chewed his lower lip and frowned. “He’s not gonna hurt you, is he?”

Toni knew she couldn’t promise anything. Steve was unpredictable. But Peter looked so scared and small in her arms, looking at her like she held all the answers in the world. “No, Petey. He’s not gonna hurt me. He just wants to have a nice dinner as a family.”

Peter nodded, looking too serious for his age.

“Now,” Toni spoke brightly as she poked her son in the stomach. “What would you like to eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like and leave a comment! Depending on the response I may or may not continue this.


	3. You were the only one...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint just has to get in, do his job, and get out. He doesn't need to be bonding with the boss' kid, or admiring his ex-wife...but they didn't call him a walking disaster for no reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General warnings for mentioned abuse again. Nothing explicit. Clint's finally entered! This chapter is longer than the first two, and kinda ends awkwardly, but that's because the conversation that follows is kinda important. I didn't want to rush it.

Toni had just placed dinner on the table when there was a knock on her door. It could only be one person, and she groaned softly.

“Go away, Clint!” she called as she approached the door.

“C’mon Toni! Don’t make this any harder,” came the reply through the door.

Peter watched, looking between Toni and the door as she walked toward it. The young mother gave her son a reassuring smile and steeled herself before pulling the chain off the top and turning the last lock. “It’s alright, Petey. It’s just Uncle Clint.” With that, she opened the door. Toni leaned into the gap, blocking Clint’s path for a moment. “I’ve had enough of the mob mentality today, Clint, so if you could make this qui—” She stopped her joke as she finally looked him over. He was still as handsome as ever, but there was something…off about him.

Her brown eyes trailed down his chest, took in the way the shirt didn’t cling just right like it used to. She frowned. “You haven’t been eating…” She looked back into his eyes. “Why?”

Clint swallowed hard and shifted under her gaze. “’M fine.”

Toni didn’t look like she believed him, but stepped aside to let him pass. She shut the door behind him, and then, even knowing it was useless, locked the door. With a sigh, Toni turned and faced Clint again, crossing her arms and straightening her back so she didn’t seem quite as short. “Where are you putting them?” she asked softly.

Clint looked apologetic as he picked up the bag. “Camera and mic in the kitchen, a mic in the living room. A mic in the bathroom. A mic in Peter’s room. He didn’t _say_ I had to put a camera in your room, so I think just a mic should be fine.”

Toni relaxed a bit and her face softened. “Thank you, Clint.” He was still looking out for her. Clint always tried to look out for her. Between him and his brother Barney…Toni owed them a lot.  

He scratched the back of his head. “Well…I’ll start with Peter’s room while you two eat, so he won’t have to see.”

She couldn’t describe how grateful she was for that. Peter already had to deal with his ‘uncles’ today. Even if it was Clint, Toni wasn’t sure if the little boy would want to see anyone else. Considering the time that had passed, Peter might not even really remember Clint as well as Clint knew him. A year was a long time to be apart.  “Thanks…again.”

He nodded. “I’m gonna get to it, then.”

She returned the gesture and went back to the table. Peter was already almost done his sandwich. Toni was glad, earlier he hadn’t seemed too eager to eat anything (she blamed Steve’s impromptu ‘pickup’), but his appetite seemed to have returned.  

“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “You were hungry!”

Peter giggled around his mouthful and swallowed it down along with the rest of his milk. He didn’t tell her that Daddy hadn’t given him a snack or anything, because he was working. He wasn’t supposed to bother Daddy when he was working. “Mommy, who’s here?” he asked. He hoped it wasn’t his Daddy again, because his Mommy was already really upset from seeing him earlier.

Mommy’s smile wobbled a little bit, like she wasn’t sure if she was going to keep smiling, but then she answered. “Your Uncle Clint.”

Peter beamed up at her, trying to get that smile to stay. “Oh.” He wanted to ask why. Wanted to know where his Uncle had been since he hadn’t been with his Daddy like his other Uncles. Uncle Clint was usually one of the people who’d been around his Daddy. He used to be at the old house a lot. Peter had lots of memories of him. He wasn’t as big and scary as Daddy and Uncle Bucky. Plus he was always nicer to his Mommy than most of his other uncles. 

Toni reached out and gently pet his hair. Peter always liked the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. It was nice and helped calm him down. Sometimes he thought it helped keep his Mommy calm too. So he always let her. Besides, it felt nice.

They both heard footsteps out in the living room. Peter wanted to lean back to see Uncle Clint, but Mommy was blocking the way. He had a feeling she’d be upset if he tried to see.

“How about you wash your plate and rinse your cup out while I talk to Clint, OK?” she suggested, dropping a kiss onto his forehead before leaving the kitchen.

Peter slipped off his chair and did as he was told.

Toni went back out into the living room and met Clint. “So…I’m guessing they’re up and running?” she asked, sounding exhausted.

The blond gave her mischievous grin and held up the listening device, waving it a bit. “Not even turned on yet.”

A slow breath out, and Toni’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you,” she said softly. She glanced toward the kitchen. They stood in silence, listening to the sound of Peter dragging his little stool to the sink. The rush of the faucet was the only sound for a few moments before Clint cleared his throat.

“How…How have you been?” he ventured.

“Before today we were fine. I knew you and that truck were hanging around, but I thought we were finally out of it.”

“That’s Brock Rumlow. He’s new. Newer. Steve found him after you left.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded.

Clint inclined his head toward the kitchen. “You OK with me putting one in there?”

She honestly appreciated him asking her permission. Toni wasn’t afforded a lot of privacy at the old house, and she was about to have it taken from her again. Protecting Peter had always been her priority. Honestly, the young mother wasn’t sure she was succeeding. In fact, she was pretty damn certain that all of her effort to keep Peter away from this life amounted to nothing; all because Steve Rogers wanted to play happy family again…or whatever the hell his plan was.

“Yeah, just let me get him in the bath first.” It was odd, dancing around Clint like this, but Toni didn’t want to overwhelm Peter after everything that happened. She had no doubt the boy was confused, because Daddy had picked him up from school, and he’d gone to his father’s office. Maybe he’d seen a bit of what he did. Barnes had been there, and that was bad enough in her book. The man had made it known there was no love lost between them when she left.

Clint nodded. The least he could do was give her agency in her own home. Peter was her kid. It was up to her whether he got to see him. It should be up to her who got to see him anyway…

Toni turned on her heel and returned to the kitchen. Peter held out his arms, wanting to be carried, and Toni didn’t have it in her heart to deny him. Scooping him up, Toni kept him distracted as they walked down the hall, passed the living room where Clint hovered, and into the bathroom. “Do you want bubbles tonight Peter?”

Peter shook his head as he rubbed his toes over each other while they waited for the bath to fill. “Is Uncle Clint still here?” He hadn’t heard the door open and shut again, and he’d been too busy laughing with Mommy in the hall to notice.

“Yes, he is. If you want to, you can see him after your bath,” Toni offered, checking the water one more time before helping Peter into the tub. One by one, she lined his toys up on the edge, hoping they would buy her enough time to talk to Clint, to really get a feel for what Steve was looking for, what he wanted…what his plan could be. Clint had always been willing to help her out in the past. She could only hope that whatever happened while she was gone hadn’t changed him for the worst.

Toni washed Peter’s hair, singing softly as she did to distract him further. “You can play for a little bit after you wash yourself. I have to go talk to Uncle Clint, OK? You call me if you need me.” With one last kiss to his head, Toni climbed to her feet and returned to the living room.

“Is it done?”

“Yeah, the camera and mic in the kitchen are set. Should be good for now…he didn’t give me explicit instructions on where he wants everything, and if he asks…” Clint shrugged and flashed a grin he didn’t mean. “I’ll just make up an excuse. Let’s see if he complains though…I won’t bring it up if he don’t.”

Toni looked toward the kitchen for a long moment, then back at Clint. “Did he tell you about dinner tomorrow night? He wants to have ‘family time’, and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to fake it through an entire meal with that man.” A long sigh passed through her lips. “And Peter…he knows. Of course he knows. He’s not a baby anymore, and he remembers what it was like before. He knows how Steve is…and I don’t know how to make anything right. Or even better.” And she didn’t mean for all of it to come out like this, but she and Clint had always been friends. He and Barney had been good to her, watched her back when they could and took care of Peter when they couldn’t. Toni felt like she needed a drink, but it’d been years since she lost herself in a bottle and she wasn’t going to let Steve of all people be the reason she turned back. She laughed, no trace of humor in her voice. “Steve’s right. I’m a terrible mother.” He’d been able to take Peter from her so easily, and she’d caved so easily to his demands.

“Hey,” Clint spoke up immediately, stepping forward and gently touching her elbow. “Come on, don’t say that. You’re a good mom. I know it, and so does Peter. And really, his opinion’s the only one that matters, right?”

“I can’t protect him,” Toni choked out. “No matter what I do—no matter how hard I try, Steve can get to him. He’ll keep at it until Peter grows up exactly like him.” And that was her biggest fear, the one she’d worked so hard to combat; the one motivator behind her leaving Steve. It was Peter, and his well-being. Her baby couldn’t grow up to be his father. It’d destroy her.

“Toni, Peter has you. He’s not going to turn into Steve.” He shouldn’t be saying this. He shouldn’t be touching her. He knew that, he did, but Clint didn’t care when she looked like that. Toni shouldn’t be so hard on herself when he knew she’d done everything possible to protect her son. “Steve can’t make him into what he wants…hell, you didn’t come out like he wanted, and that has to count for something, huh?”

She sniffed and wiped at her eye as a single tear threatened to spill over.

Clint looked around as though he were checking for others, then at the remote in his hand to ensure everything was still off before leaning down to her height. “You know what I do, when I gotta talk to him for a while?” He waited until she shook her head. “I just stare at his chest. He likes when people are too scared to look him in the eye.” But she probably already knew that. “When he’s bein’ a dick I just think about how his pecs are so big he should be wearing a sports bra,” he whispered.

The surprise that lit her eyes made him smile, as did the giggle that followed. Her eyes were still watery, but less so…and the smile on her face looked genuine.

“I’ve never thought of that,” she replied, laughter in her voice. “Thanks, Clint.”

Clint gently squeezed her elbow. “I like to think I’m funny.” He shrugged. “I know…I know it’s hard. And it’s hard on Peter, but it’s not your fault. Besides…if you’re so worried about Peter turning out like Steve, it’s better he knows how you feel about what he does, right? It’s better to see you fighting against it than thinking you just go along with it.”

Meeting those blue eyes, the ones that almost looked like Steve’s, but were always gentler—softer, Toni nodded. She moved, gently taking his hand and squeezing it. “I don’t mind it. I like your humor.” Maybe it was pathetic, but it had been so long since she felt a gentle touch like this from a man. Her smile faded a bit as she considered his other words. “I know…I suppose you’ve got a point, about Peter knowing. But the result is that he’s afraid of his own father, and that’s not how it should be at all.” But they weren’t a normal family, and Steve wasn’t a normal father. He was Steve Rogers, leader of the largest mob in New York City. The worst of it was she couldn’t even have another man in her life, because Steve would just have them killed.

And damn it, Toni was feeling helpless again and she wasn’t. She wasn’t, but Steve always reduced her to feeling like it. The tears she’d been fighting slid down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Raising her hand, she hastily wiped them away. “I-I just, it’s been a long day.”

“Hey, shh, it’s OK,” Clint said quickly, voice quiet so Peter wouldn’t hear in the bathroom. “It’s alright.” Slowly, tentatively, he pulled her in for a hug, arms loose around her shoulders in case Toni decided she didn’t want him touching her. “It’s not gonna be like this forever…something will come up, he’ll get distracted—then it’ll just be you and Peter again for a good long while. You just gotta stick through this.”

And fuck if she knew why she did it, but Toni curled her hands into Clint’s jacket, leaning into his careful embrace. Maybe she really was as touch starved as she thought. She wanted to believe Clint’s words. Wanted so desperately to believe that Steve would get bored again and leave her alone…but Toni couldn’t let herself hope too much. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “I don’t…I know I shouldn’t do this with you…you could get hurt.” Even if Steve always seemed to favor Clint for some reason.

“Me? Naw, I’m fine. Closed doors and all that, right? Besides…Boss trusts me. I’ve been here since the beginning. You just focus on you and Peter, okay? I’m fine.” Clint offered her a reassuring smile.

“OK,” she whispered back. Their eyes met again, and her tears slowed, seeing how bright and calm his gaze was. Toni wiped at her eyes again before stepping out of his arms reluctantly. “Have you…did you eat anything yet? I have leftovers I can give you, and I can make you a sandwich. Peter said he wanted to see you before he left.” And while Clint was here, everything stayed off.

“I’m fine,” he shrugged, though really he hadn’t eaten much today. It was hard to stomach much of anything these days. “I’ll hang around a little bit…see Peter.” Kid was a real sweetheart.

“OK, just wait here.” With that, Toni left the room. After grabbing pajamas and a towel, she went back into the bathroom. “Uncle Clint’s still here, buddy, if you still want to see him.” She helped her son out of the tub and dried him off. “Only if you want to, though. You don’t have to, okay?”

Peter let his mom pull his pajama top over his head before nodding. “I wanna see him, Mommy,” he murmured. Peter really did like his Uncle Clint. His niceness was genuine. He never gave him or Mommy fake smiles. Uncle Clint never called him or Mommy names, or acted mean like his other Uncles did when Daddy wasn’t around.

Peter was too young to understand the reasoning behind their actions. He was too young to understand that for a lot of people who worked for his father, Peter was the only thing standing between them and their chance of taking over the empire when the boss died.

“Let’s go, then,” she said once Peter was dressed. Just because she wanted to, Toni picked the boy up again for the short walk to the living room. Having Peter close always made Toni feel better too. Once they arrived, she put the little boy down and let him decide if he wanted to hug Clint or not. Unlike Steve, she never forced Peter to hug any of his Uncles.

But this was Clint, and Clint had taken care of Peter. Clint knew just what to do. He crouched down to what would be Peter’s height if he decided to approach. An easy grin settled on the man’s face as he took in the child. “Hey Buddy, long time no see, huh? You’ve gotten pretty big.” Seeing Peter from a distance for the past year was a lot different than seeing him up close. Last time Clint saw him he’d just turned four…a lot had changed in a year.

Peter couldn’t help but return the smile when Clint grinned at him, and he quickly went over to the man to give him a hug. “Hi Uncle Clint,” he muttered as he squeezed the man gently around the shoulders. After letting go, he took a shy step backward toward his mother, but stood in front of her, instead of behind in an unconscious show of protection. “You weren’t with my Daddy today.”

Clint shook his head. He’d been watching the apartment. “Naw, buddy—not today. But I heard you had an adventure with him, so I wanted to stop by and say hello.”

“Uncle Clint’s gonna be around more often, Peter…would you like that?” Toni really wanted to take Peter’s feelings into account. True, Clint may be their watchdog, but he really did care for Peter and that was what mattered. Besides that, if Clint was around more often, he’d be able to tell her what was going on with Steve, maybe help her out like he used to…and maybe she missed him. A little.

Peter looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “Next time you can see my toys.” His little hands twisted around each other in nervous habit, even as he stayed standing in front of his mother. The boy nodded once, as if deciding it for himself.

“Sounds like a plan, Peter,” Clint offered the boy a fist bump—grinned when the kid returned it, and looked up at Toni with a smile. “You okay with that, Mom?” He wanted to make sure she was alright with it too. If she didn’t want him here, he wouldn’t come in. Steve had told him to stay outside…he didn’t say he had to get close.

“Yeah…” her smile was small, but genuine. “That sounds nice. Maybe you can come a bit earlier and get some dinner.”

“Maybe…yeah. That sounds nice.” He refocused his blue eyes on Peter, meeting the boy’s own bright blue orbs. “Getting’ to be your bedtime, right bud?” he prompted gently.

With another little nod, the boy tipped his head back and looked up at his mother. “Can Uncle Clint read me a bedtime story?”

Toni was surprised by the request, but truly, she didn’t have the heart to deny her son anything, not after the day he had, and certainly not with tomorrow looming. “If Uncle Clint wants to, he’s certainly welcome.”

With one quick glance, Clint knew that Toni was being honest. He looked back to her son. “Sure kiddo. I’ll read to you.”

Peter’s reaction was immediate. Clint practically melted at the sight of that little grin. The boy grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward his room.

Toni watched them leave. After a few moments of deliberation, she decided to let Clint help Peter to settle into bed. She had offered Clint a sandwich, and besides that—the cameras were still off. It would only take her a minute or two to find them, to determine if they were the same cameras Steve had used in their home. If they were…well, there was hope. Steve had never been as good as she was with technology.

Hardly anyone was.

The camera wasn’t hidden very well [thank you Clint], and the sandwich was easy enough to make. Upon further thought, Toni added a glass of milk and some cookies she and Peter made earlier in the week. She must have lost herself in thought, because she hadn’t heard Clint walk into the question until he spoke.

“Peter’s out like a rock. Had me read him a book about spiders…kid’s tougher than I am, I swear,” his smile faded a bit when he saw Toni’s startled look. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” Toni rushed to agree, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Uh, here.” She placed the sandwich in front of Clint. “Sit. Eat. I’m going to be sending you out of here with food too, so…” her voice faded out with a pathetic shrug. Toni kind of felt pathetic bribing Clint to stay, all because she’d hardly had any meaningful adult conversation…and Clint had been her friend. One of the only ones she had when she was stuck with Steve.

With obvious hesitation, Clint sat down at the table and took a bite. “God you don’t gotta—but this is good.”

Toni leaned against the counter, stayed standing more out of long-bred instincts than anything else. “It’s the least I could do.” She crossed her arms as she looked him over. “You look like you could use a few good meals. You’re getting scrawny, Clint.”

“Oh shuddup, I am not,” Clint griped around a mouthful.

Toni laughed softly, and not for the first time that night because of Clint. Maybe her night wouldn’t be so bad after all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was honestly overwhelmed by the support for this story. Your comments and kudos give me fuel to keep writing! Just a warning, the next chapter is going to consist of mostly just Clint and Toni talking so it might be shorter.


	4. That Even Kinda Came Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Toni talk about the past, and suspicions are confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter didn't turn out as short as I originally thought, lol. Warnings for this chapter include referenced abuse. The other warning will be in the bottom notes because it's a slight spoiler, even though it's listed in the tags. Thank you so much for your continued support of this story. Kudos and comments are my fuel!

The first time Clint Barton met Toni Stark, he was standing beside Steve in a nearly empty church. Well…not right beside Steve, that was reserved for his best man, Bucky. Clint was surprised that he was up there at all, really. True, he and Barney had been with Steve before all this, when he was a nineteen-year-old lieutenant in the Irish mob. Maybe that was why, ten years later, Clint was the one standing up with him while he got married. They’d all been shocked, when Steve told them he was getting married to the Stark girl. Bucky had commented that they met once before the actual proposal, and to everyone else that seemed odd, crazy—even if she was Howard Stark’s daughter.

But as soon as he saw her, Clint understood.

Toni had been gorgeous in her wedding dress. He’d looked toward Barney, to see what his reaction would be and found his brother’s jaw clenched. Clint wasn’t really sure why at the time, although he found out later.

Looking at her now, Clint still thought she was beautiful. Toni didn’t need the dresses, the jewelry, and the heels—she didn’t need bright lipstick and dark, smoky eyes. Her eyes smoldered on their own. They held an inviting fire in their depths that he could probably stare into for hours. And when she talked about something she loved? God, he couldn’t help but smile as he watched the enthusiasm light her face—but it’d been awhile since he had been able to be so close to her.

But here he was, sitting in her kitchen, eating the food she worked so hard to provide for her little boy, for herself. He was here, and she was there; leaning against the counter in jeans and a soft looking button-down. Not one of Steve’s, like he had been so used to seeing her wear. This was a deep ruby red, one that highlighted her dark curls and tanned skin. It fit her perfectly, and she just looked so…in her element. Comfortable, like she’d never been in the old house.  

“Thank you for reading to him. You’ve always been really nice to him…nicer than the others,” she said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Clint swallowed the mouthful and wiped his mouth. “Course I am. Got no reason to be mean to a five-year-old.” Being nice to Toni and her kid shouldn’t be a big deal. Even if he knew it was. Even if he remembered how the others had treated her when Steve’s back was turned—it just, she shouldn’t thank him for being decent. She was a nice person; beautiful person inside and out. But that line of thinking would lead to trouble.

“Yeah, well…you know how the others think,” Toni muttered, sweeping her curls over one shoulder. To Clint it just seemed like she needed to do something with her hands. “Steve dies, Peter stands to inherit everything, regardless of my thoughts on the matter. They hate him for it.” And imagine, hating a child for something they had absolutely no say in. Hating a little boy so strongly that the only thing standing between him and harm was his Father. Her dark eyes met Clint’s. “They’re not like you…or your brother. You were both…decent. You’ve seen them. The only time they played nice was when Steve’s around. Any other time, they treated us terribly.” Bucky rose into her mind then; her ex-husband’s best friend. Thoughts of Sam Wilson followed close behind; a man who seemed willing to follow Steve no matter what he said or where he went.

To them, Peter was a symbol of everything they had to lose.

Clint could only nod, because yeah, he knew. He’d seen the way the other guys treated Peter. It was sort of funny to him, that a bunch of grown men in the mob were actually…scared, of the little boy. Drug dealers, killers, hitmen—all terrified of a five-year-old.

Not…that it was completely crazy. Clint wasn’t afraid of Peter, sure. He loved the kid like he was his own, had been there even before Toni’s pregnancy, but…they all knew Steve. They all feared Steve because they knew (or thought they knew) what he was capable of. Steve hadn’t even grown up in the business. He’s started out hustling on corners, then turned to being a runner for the Irish Mob, working his way up. If he could turn out as vicious as he did, none of them wanted to consider the kind of man Peter would grow up to be. Some of the younger guys; the ones they called the kids, were jealous of Peter because the boy’s status would always be higher than theirs, simply through birthright.

“Still, you shouldn’t have to thank me for being nice to a kid,” Clint replied softly.

The smile she gave him was twisted with something darker, something too self-aware on a too young face. “Unfortunately, that’s the world you and I currently reside in, whether we like it or not.”

Toni wished for the millionth time in her short life that she could take Peter away from all this. Hell, for the first few months after she left Steve, she’d thought she had. Then that truck showed up one day, and then Clint’s car the next…again and again in a never-ending pattern that proved that the venue may have changed, but her cage remained. She wished she could go back to that first meeting, or even the second, and tell him no. Maybe stand up for herself. Offer to pay him off with her mind, instead of allowing Howard to offer her body. But then…then Toni would never have Peter. Despite everything, he was the greatest thing she’d ever done. Her best creation. Her little boy meant everything to her.

Steve knew that, and he was willing to use it against her.

As her thoughts drifted back to that night, she glanced at Clint briefly before focusing on her hair again. “You knew, didn’t you?” Her voice was soft, as though she were afraid Steve could still somehow hear her. The fact had always been a point of contention between them. Toni honestly didn’t think he’d ever forgiven her for lying. Though, technically, it had been Howard’s lie. She’d just gone along with it. Who could blame her?

Well, Steve.

And, really, it had been so obvious, hadn’t it? Natasha took one look at her and knew. Even Strange had been smart enough to draft up documents after the wedding, forging all sorts of consent and legalities that were needed in cases like theirs.

Clint swallowed his last bit, mulling over the question. He didn’t need to ask her what she meant, because he knew. He hadn’t been like Barney, who had taken one look and known the truth, but he…Clint wasn’t a moron, even before Barney told him, he’d figured it out. Toni was just too…vibrant, to be as old as she claimed to be. Had she really lived under Howard Stark’s thumb for twenty-one years, she would have been worn down, taken more after her late mother.

“Yeah,” he settled on after a long pause. “Yeah, I…not at first, but I knew.” He’d figured it out, and really, it explained some things. Why Toni was always more comfortable around him, at seventeen, than she had around others who were supposedly her age. It explained so much. It answered questions like; Why would Barney and Natasha insist on looking after her? Why did Steve’s lawyer call her in for a private meeting? And why…about six months later, Steve came home and nearly killed her.

“That’s why you and Barney…that’s why I liked having you guys there. I didn’t—I didn’t have to pretend, with you. I could just be Toni. I didn’t have to be Mrs. Rogers,” she admitted, finally meeting his eyes again.

Because she shouldn’t have been Mrs. Rogers at all. She should have been Toni Stark: Fifteen-year-Old Genius. She should have been continuing her college classes, not playing house with a mobster.

Clint stood and walked around the table. As he approached, he kept his movements deliberate, so she could see everything. Just as he had before, he pulled the young woman into his arms. “You’re always gonna be Toni to me…don’t you worry about that.”

Toni’s arms wrapped around him in return this time, which Clint took as a good sign. “I know,” her voice was raspy until she cleared her throat. “I’m really happy, that you’re here with me…with us. Feels like…like as long as you have our back, things will be alright.”

Clint pulled back and gave her a gentle smile. “Hey, they will be…you and Peter are the toughest people I know.”

And God, he wished Barney was here. Barney had always been better at saying the right thing, at _doing_ the right thing. He’d been the one to pick Toni up (literally and figuratively) after she dealt with Steve. Clint, being a teenager and terrified, had been reluctant to get involved. Barney never was. It didn’t matter if Steve was still standing over her. Once it was done, sometimes before it was done, Barney would approach, take Toni, and leave the room. It didn’t matter to the redhead if Steve was still swearing and yelling; he’d only ever had eyes for the Toni. It was something he’d picked up during their childhood, after saving Clint from their father so many times. Barney just…developed this iron will for the people he cared about.

Barney wasn’t here though. Barney couldn’t be here. Clint could only talk to him a few times a week from the other side of a plastic window, with a grimy phone pressed to his ear. His brother was in prison, and somehow living alone made their tiny, crap apartment feel gaping.

He hoped Barney would be proud of him, as he gently squeezed Toni once before letting go. “I better get going…Boss’s gonna want these on ASAP.”

Toni’s smile, the one he’d fought so hard to see, faded a bit at his words. “Yeah, you’re right.” A thought seemed to have struck her, and she suddenly turned toward the fridge. She pulled out two Tupperware containers and shoved them into his hand. “Here, take these. I promised you leftovers.” The brunette tilted her chin up a bit, a spark in her eye. “And you have to return the containers, so consider that your excuse to come back and make good on your promise.”

Clint was…well, when she looked at him like that, there was really nothing to say, was there?

“Yes, dear,” he teased as she walked him to the door. He let her open it, and was about to step through when she moved close. In the next moment, there was a pair of soft lips pressing against his cheek.

“Thank you, Clint…for everything.”

He was pretty sure a blush was slowly crawling up the base of his neck, and would move all the way up to the tips of his ears. “Yeah, uh, I’ll…I’ll see you around.” With that, he fled.

When he finally made it back to his car, Clint dropped his head on the steering wheel, banged it a few times for good measure, trying to knock some sense into his brain. He was dead. So dead. He was going to die. He wasn’t afraid of being caught. No one had been in the hallway to see...but he _liked_ the feeling of her lips on his skin. He’d liked it, and her, and…

And he was so, so screwed.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally arrive at the mentioned underage. Toni was fifteen when she married Steve; Howard having lied about her age. Steve didn't know, but others mentioned in the chapter had figured it out. The timeline of events will be explained in later chapters, but Steve and Toni's age gap is officially fourteen years. She and Clint are two years apart. Though not mentioned, Toni is now twenty-one. Thank you again for the love I've received so far. I'm writing this for you guys, and I'm so happy i can share this brainchild with you all.


	5. Weighed down with words too over-dramatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the relative calm before what could be a very destructive storm. Steve and Bucky are laughing it up at Toni's expense. Clint just wants to leave the room before he does something stupid. Toni and Peter have an honest discussion before school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I know this chapter is a long time coming, but it's longer, so I hope that makes up for it! Warnings for this chapter include joking about rape and mentions of abuse. The jokes include using handcuffs on an unwilling party and manipulating them into sleeping with another character.

Brock Rumlow relieved Clint of his duty around two A.M. They shared a brief nod, and Clint told him about the mics and camera. Camera? That was…odd. He’d think the Boss would want more than one. After all, everyone knew that the warehouse and the man’s own home were outfitted with all sorts of cameras and microphones. It made sure everyone stayed in line. Hard to rip the Boss off when there were eyes on you all hours of the day.

Brock wasn’t looking to rip anyone off. Hell, he was lucky to be alive. He knew that. By all rights, Steve should have shot him dead when he shot Brock’s first Boss, Alexander Pierce. He’d walked into what was meant to be a meeting with the man to find his brains and blood spattered on the wall, and Steve Rogers standing over him. Only a moment passed before Steve asked him to join his group.

Brock was always a survivalist, and Steve still had the gun. Only an idiot would have said no.

So here he was, at seven A.M., bleary eyes watching the laptop perched on the dashboard of his truck. He sipped black coffee out of a thermos, mentally thanking Jack for thinking of him when he’d made his own share. The young man could hear Toni getting up and moving around, but without the cameras, he was really just listening. She shuffled around, presumably changing and getting ready, before she left the room, and he lost her.

He frowned, and messed with the sensitivity settings on the mics, wondering if something was wrong. Brock knew that the Boss’ house was wired with every bit of tech imaginable, only the best mics and cameras to catch every little thing done or said. Brock would call him paranoid if he was feeling suicidal. This…was likely to be a problem, further down the line. Her voice reappeared in what was marked as the second bedroom, and he could hear her trying to rouse the kid.

XxX

“Good morning baby,” Toni cooed, gently rubbing Peter’s back. Time to get ready for school, you have Show and Tell today, remember?” Peter had been very excited to bring his very own ivy plant to school, one he’d taken care of all on his own. After dropping a kiss to his cheek, she added; “Get ready and I'll have your favorite pancakes waiting for you," she bribed. After one last kiss on his head, Toni went into the kitchen to make good on her promise.

As she cooked, her mind wandered to the camera and microphones currently monitoring her every move. It would take some getting used to, and she had to be careful about the things she said. Peter would have to be warned too, but she couldn’t do that at breakfast, since the mics would pick it up, and Steve was surely monitoring the feed, or he would be soon. Toni didn’t need him pissed off before he even stepped through the door. She never really stood a chance against Steve’s anger.

She wondered if the camera angel could pick up her shaking hands. The young mother put the spatula down for a moment and took a deep breath. She couldn’t do this now. She had to be strong for Peter. Peter had to know what was going on, and what could…what could happen tonight. Having a breakdown wouldn’t solve anything, and it wouldn’t help anything. Hell, if Steve was watching, he might even get off on it. He’d always seemed to get some sort of sick pleasure out of seeing her cry.

The sound of little footsteps heading her way brought Toni back to the moment. She turned, grinning when she caught sight of her boy, running up to her with his ivy plant in one hand and his shoes in the other. He carefully put them on the table, going on his toes to be sure the pot wouldn’t fall off, before he turned toward her and hugged her. Toni returned the embrace with a grin. “There’s my boy! Have any fun dreams last night?”

“No, Mama,” Peter reported, gently squeezing her one last time before giving her a smile. Truthfully, he’d had a kinda bad dream about his Daddy, but he wasn’t gonna say that. He let go of his mother and climbed into his booster chair, looking at his plant.

“I think you’re gonna have the best Show and Tell,” Toni praised as she filled his plate with pancakes.

Peter nodded, and very, very carefully poured some water out of his cup into the pot. “I wanna get a sticker,” he confirmed. When his plant was taken care of, he dug into his pancakes.

Toni couldn’t stop smiling as she watched Peter. She liked seeing him work so hard on that little plant. It was sweet. It was almost like a pet to him, and since the landlord didn’t allow dogs unless you moved in with one, the poor boy wasn’t likely to get a real one anytime soon. Toni dug into her pancakes, thinking about the rest of her day. She'd get ready and then walk Peter to the bus stop. She'd see him off, and then head off to the diner where she worked long hours. Toni chewed thoughtfully as she thought about dinner tonight. She'd have to talk about keeping how long Uncle Clint stayed a secret, but only when they were out of the apartment. Steve shouldn't know about the bedtime story. Who knew how he would react?

XxX

Steve had just finished up a meeting with a client; an old Italian man who hated doing business with an Irishman. He’d been a couple weeks late on his payment, and Steve didn’t know if it was stupidity or that old prejudice that caused it. All he knew was that late payments couldn’t go unpunished. A message was necessary, especially when dealing with someone this high up…but that could be tricky. This time, it hadn’t been so difficult. This Italian had four sons.

Yesterday he had five.

If Steve was a more reflective man, he might have reconsidered the idea of sons paying for the sins of their fathers…then again, the idea may have been in his mind all along. After all, he wanted to train Peter so he’d be able to shoulder all of his sins, and add his own to the list, when he became a man. But that was neither here nor there—the money would not be late again, which was all Steve had wanted.

He leaned back in his chair and waited for Barton to show up, looking over at his best friend, and right hand man, Bucky Barnes.

“You waitin’ on the Hawk?” Bucky asked, leaning against the wall.

Steve nodded. “I want to talk to him about his mic and camera placement.”

“Kid fuck it up?”

“Not exactly…they work, obviously, but he only placed one camera,” Steve replied as he opened the screens up on his laptop. Most of the quadrants in the program were black, with the only exception being a camera that was placed in the kitchen. He watched as his family ate breakfast, chatting away…about what, he didn’t know, because he wasn’t listening to the audio. The sight of Toni and Peter so happy and seemingly carefree angered him. They should be in his home. Peter shouldn’t be getting ready for public school, of all things. His boy deserved better than all this.

Steve focused his attention on his ex, noting the way the muscles of her shoulders were a bit too taught, how the hand not being used to eat was clenched under the table. He smiled. She was afraid…good. That meant she’d worked hard not to fuck up tonight. Steve always preferred her compliant. Peter had always been the means to gaining that compliance. There were other methods he preferred, but…as long as she was behaving, Steve didn’t much care what Toni’s motivation was.

Bucky opened his mouth to make another comment, but there was a sudden knock on the door. “That’s probably Barton here to talk about your girl,” he noted.

“Come in,” Steve called.

His expectations were met when the sniper appeared in the doorway. Steve waved him in as he stood from his desk, coming around to the front of it and leaning against it. Clint looked wary, and like he’d rather be anywhere but the office. Steve smiled slightly, as though he were trying to ease the other’s nerves. His big hand rested on the laptop for a moment. “I see you’ve got everything in order—but only one camera?” he questioned with a nod toward the device.

“I had to knock, and I didn’t want the neighbors callin’ the cops. She wouldn’ta gone along with more than one,” Clint replied. He couldn’t help but glance over at Bucky, his eyes taking in the intricate silver and black lines of his tattoo on his arm…looking more machine than human, somehow. He refocused on the laptop, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “I figured it’d be better not to piss her off.”

Steve snorted, and it was an odd, seeing such an undignified sound come from an impeccably dressed man. “It doesn’t matter how she feels or what she wants,” he said blandly, crossing his arms and locking his gaze with Clint. “I want a camera in the living room, both bedrooms, and the inside hallway…and I want a mic in every room of that apartment—understand?”

Clint nodded, skirting his gaze downward once more.

“If you don’t think you can handle her,” Bucky piped up from where he leaned against the wall. “Then maybe I should be the one to put the mics and cameras in.” He laughed as another thought came to him. “Hey, maybe if she’s pissed enough you could have some hot, angry sex.” The last part was directed at the taller blond.  

Steve snorted again at the idea. “I’d have to cuff her to the bed for that.” Which wouldn’t be something brand new for her, anyway. He hummed slightly, rocking back on his heels as he considered it. “Might be good for her. Cock always seemed to calm her down, huh? Maybe that would fix the problem.” And he knew Bucky understood that he didn’t mean calm so much as compliant. Hell, even Barton understood, if the sudden clench of his jaw was anything to go by. “Clint can manage the mics and cameras, can’t you?” Steve asked, speaking to him as though he were a teacher trying to explain something to a particularly slow pupil. It was a tone Clint was used to.

The question was loaded—full of false understanding and annoyance that he had to spell out his orders. Clint was trying to hide the way he twitched when Steve talked about Toni…tried not to think about him actually raping her. He wouldn’t…not with his son in the apartment, right?

Clint didn’t know why he thought that would stop Steve. He’d hit her in front of Peter before, what was to stop him from raping her while his son slept across the hall?

It made him angry. It made him really. Fucking. Angry—and he hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Steve snapped his fingers in front of Clint’s face, jarring him from his thoughts. “I asked you a question.” This time the tone was full of warning. Clint looked up pretty quickly.

“Yes Sir. Sorry, Sir—long night. I’ll take care of it,” he assured before dropping his gaze again.

“If you need any help, Barton, I’d be happy to volunteer,” Bucky piped up, feigning eagerness at the idea. “Just give me a call. I’ve got ways of making the bitch cooperate. Course, my ways aren’t as fun as Steve’s, but they work.” The brunet shared a smirk with his best friend. “Toni needs a…firm hand, right Steve?”

“I can handle it,” Clint cut in, voice tight and barely restrained. He kept his eyes focused downward, focused on Steve’s pecs, just like he’d told Toni last night. Looking either man in the eyes right now wouldn’t be a good idea, seeing as Clint was pretty sure he couldn’t hide the anger blazing in them. Avoiding eye contact made Steve feel powerful, and Clint had learned the rules long ago, when he was younger than Peter, about how to deal with powerful men. “I’ll…get her to cooperate. It’s better if she’s happy, isn’t it? Better off for Peter, I mean.”

“If she tests me too much—treads the line or crosses it, I take Peter back. Her happiness is irrelevant,” Steve replied simply with a roll of his eyes. “The only reason I even let him stay with her is sentiment…I’ve got a soft heart, what can I say?”

Soft hearted enough to laugh about raping his ex-wife. One that they all knew was over ten years younger than him. Instead of mentioning any of that, Clint nodded his head once.

Bucky didn’t seem to fully agree with the sentiment, as he groaned at the very idea of Peter being Steve’s full-time. “Kid’ll go ballistic if we drag him away from his Mama again. You remember how he was yesterday.” Little brat wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Bucky had to let Peter tug on his damn hair before he relaxed, and even then it was him watching the snot-nosed cretin, not Steve. He didn’t feel like dealing with Toni and her kid again. Peter may be his godson, but that didn’t make him any less of an annoying shit. “Just use the threat to keep her in line. Hell, didn’t you say yesterday she would’ve agreed to anything to get him back? Might be able to get sex that way.” And he laughed, because really, the idea that Steve might be the only parent in existence to get sex because of his kid was hilarious.

“She makes everything so difficult. I don’t have to use threats on any other woman to get her to spread her legs for me. You know I could have anyone I wanted.” But he always wanted Toni, and that was the problem.

When Steve mentioned he could have anyone, Clint stole a glance over at Bucky to see his reaction. There was none, and that more than anything told him that the man didn’t know that his best friend was currently fucking Natasha behind his back. And Clint, sure as hell, was not going to be the one to tell him. Natasha could do whatever, and whoever she wanted. Only reason he knew about it was because he and Nat were friends. Still…Bucky’s cluelessness didn’t settle any of the rising fury as they continued to talk about Toni. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve to be treated like a fucking piece of meat.

“Not my fault the bitch is hot and tight as hell,” Steve laughed a bit, brow arched as he looked over at Bucky. “But the hottest girls are always sluts, huh?”

Clint cleared his throat. “Can I go now, Sir?” He needed to leave before he did something really, really stupid. Every second of listening to this drove him closer and closer to the edge. He was about to get himself in deep trouble if he didn’t leave now.

Steve waved him off dismissively.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, Bucky seemed to decide to get a last jab at him. “Looks like Barton’s all hot and bothered,” he taunted with another bark of laughter, noting how the other’s body was ramrod straight and tense. “S’matter Hawkeye? Empty nest since you been playin’ watchdog?” Bucky was glad he didn’t have to watch Toni and the brat…although, really, he wouldn’t mind seeing some camera angles in that apartment. Not that he’d ever tell Nat.

If Clint wasn’t so wound tight, he would have made a comment. Shot back a ‘maybe I’m gay’. He was known for running his mouth. It was always something that helped to calm him, but right now, he wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth. He was angry, and sick, and just…he just couldn’t. So instead, he gave a shake of his head, “Been busy lately.” His feet move, stepping toward the door. “I’ll take care of the cameras and microphones, just like you want, Boss.” It was better to keep in Steve’s good graces.

“You better. Or I’ll send someone more capable,” Steve threatened.  

Clint tried not to make it look like he was running from the room.

Steve rolled his eyes at Clint’s retreat. He’d been off his game recently. He’d lost weight, and it was concerning. Granted, anyone would be thrown off after being taken by Loki for two months…but Steve had retrieved him. He hadn’t left him for dead, and Clint’s fingernails had grown back, so he didn’t understand why, months later, Clint still wasn’t up to par. It was worrying. Not to mention a threat to the business. He supposed he’d have to deal with it later. Right now he had to turn his attention to getting his work done so he could make dinner tonight.

Bucky lingered for a few moments more. “You know we’ve still got Laufeyson to deal with,” he reminded. Honestly, it was irritating to watch his friend get wound up in playing house again when they had bigger things at stake. Steve may own the city, but Loki and Thor were slowly seeping through the cracks in between. They had to keep an eye out on them and deal with the problem.

“I know. I’ve got something working. Just need more time,” Steve sighed as he circled back around to his desk chair and plopped down. The ‘brothers’ were close. There were rumors about them…crossing lines Steve would never even consider, but that just proved how fucked they were, and why he had to take care of them. Steve needed to drive a wedge between them somehow. He had someone following up on what might cause that divide.

Bucky wanted to snap at Steve and tell him to focus on what was important. Toni fucking Stark was not important. The kid, maybe, since Steve had been so focused on his legacy…but that bitch always fucked with his friend’s head. She always caused problems, from the time they first met, and Bucky was sure that if she came back into their folds, she’d only bring more. He didn’t understand Steve’s obsession with her. It wasn’t like she loved him. Didn’t seem like he loved her either, the way he’d cheated constantly. They weren’t like him and Nat. He and Natasha were real…Steve was just forcing something that would never work.

Speaking of his lady…

“I’m gonna go find Nat,” Buck said after watching Steve fiddled with the computer for a minute.

“Go ahead. I think she’s down in the warehouse watching the kids load a shipment,” Steve replied. Bucky could see he was already getting wrapped up in whatever was on the laptop screen. Maybe his fucking kid was doing something miracles…like tying his own fucking shoe.

Bucky tapped the doorframe twice in goodbye before shutting it behind him, leaving Steve to his own devices.

Steve didn’t pay his friend any more once he left his office. He knew he had things he should be doing, work to get done…but the surveillance program was still up. Toni and Peter were still eating breakfast. Peter gestured to a little pot in front of him, and Steve made the frame full screen to see what it was. His boy looked so proud, so happy with that little plant in his hand. Steve was willing to bet he grew it on his own. He’d gotten his mother’s brain, after all.

Toni, for her part, nodded and smiled, seemed encouraging. She’d always been good at that. Talking to Peter, calming him down…she had a knack he didn’t. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t love his boy, because he did. He obviously did. He built all this with a son in mind to take over.

Watching them made him acutely aware of the emptiness inside him. The house was too damn big for one man. He missed hearing Peter run through the halls, missed his boy’s laughter echoing off the high ceilings. The king-sized bed was too big, even if Toni hadn’t taken up a lot of room to begin with. The couch just looked too empty, even if they hadn’t curled up together on it often. As annoying as she’d been, Toni had been his wife. They were his family.

Steve was going to get them back.

XxX

“I think you’ve got that sticker in the bag, baby,” Toni said as she collected their plates. She enjoyed their breakfasts together. It was a bit of time they could spend together before their day.

“M’gonna have the best Show and Tell,” Peter declared with a beaming grin. Mommy had made him feel better about that.

Toni placed the dishes in the dishwasher. Quiet hung in the air between them, and when the mother turned around, she found those blue eyes—Steve’s blue eyes—staring up at her from Peter’s face. Steve’s eyes, her hair; Peter had really gotten lucky when it came to genes. Toni thanked whatever or whoever might be out there when Peter was born without his father’s serious allergies.

“Does Daddy gotta come over for dinner?” he muttered with a frown fixed on his face. “He’s not gonna hurt you…is he?”

Peter didn’t know about the cameras. Toni hadn’t been able to tell him yet, but she’d have to, if she wanted tonight to go smoothly. She had to remind Peter that he had to be careful with what he said. She wished she could give him an honest answer, wished that her words regarding Steve actually meant something…but no matter how much she wished and wished, nothing ever came of it. She couldn’t say, with certainty, that Steve wouldn’t yell or hit her. “Baby…” she whispered, crossing to him and taking his little hand in hers. “Daddy has to come over for dinner…and…and if we keep him happy, I’m sure he won’t do any of that, OK?”

Toni picked her boy up and carried him toward the hallway. Peter let her, gently gripping onto her all the while. She stopped and shut her door, than his, and finally the bathroom. None of the mics, including the living rooms, should be able to pick them up.

“Does he have to come over?” Peter insisted on asking again, because his Mom hadn’t been able to promise that nothing would happen, and he knew that, even if he was only five.

His Mommy kneeled in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes were bright and shiny, like they always were when she was gonna cry. He hated when she cried. It made him want to cry, even though he knew that never did anything or helped at all. It only made his Mama sadder.

“Baby,” she began, her voice going softer. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…but Daddy is coming over whether we like it or not. I—” she stopped and cleared her throat. “I need you to be a big boy right now, and listen very carefully. Can you do that, buddy? Just listen to Mommy for a minute?”

Peter nodded, eyes wide and afraid.

Toni sighed and kissed his forehead. “My little man,” she whispered with a small smile. Her eyes met Peter’s, and she began her instructions. “You can’t tell Daddy about Uncle Clint staying last night, OK? You can tell him he visited, and that you hugged him, but that’s all. You can’t talk about bedtime, or the story.” No telling how Steve would react to that, even if he’d always had a soft spot for Clint for some reason. “And…And I want you to know that Daddy put microphones in most of the rooms, and a camera in the kitchen.”

“Like at the old house?” the little boy whispered.

Toni nodded. “Just like that, so we have to be careful about what we say, alright? Because Daddy can see us and hear us…and we don’t want to upset him, right?”

Peter’s low lip wobbled with the effort it took not to cry. Crying, he’d learned very young, wouldn’t help make him any less scared, and it wouldn’t stop his Daddy from hurting his Mommy. Crying didn’t make his uncles go away, and it only upset his Mommy more. He blinked hard before shaking his head. “No Mommy,” he agreed, keeping his voice hushed. “I promise, I’ll be careful.” He had to be, because when his Daddy was angry, he never took it out on Peter. He only took it out on his Mommy, and that wasn’t fair, cause she didn’t do anything to make him mad.   

The boy reached up and wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck, hugging her tightly as if that might protect her.

Toni returned the embrace just as tight. She wished she could get away from all this, just take Peter away from the danger his father posed and live a good life. Unfortunately, all of her efforts to do so had been utterly useless. Steve just came right back into their lives, barged his way in and scooped Peter up off the street without telling her where he was. Toni may be forced to accept the situation they were currently in, but that didn’t mean she was giving up, or that she’d let her son give up.

“We’re a team, Pete. You an’ me. We have to work together.” She pulled back a bit to look into his eyes. “I need you to be brave tonight, OK? Be brave, and careful. We’ll…” her mouth twisted when the thought popped into her head, but she knew it was necessary. “We’re going to play a game tonight, OK? Like Simon Says, but tonight at dinner it’s ‘Daddy Says’.” And it was sick and twisted and so, so wrong that Toni had to resort to children’s games in an attempt to keep her son safe, but it wasn’t the first time. She just hated any form of lying to her son. Even if it was for his benefit. “We have to keep Daddy happy, or…” her throat tightened and she couldn’t finish. _Or he could take you away from me. Or he could hurt me_. “Or bad things will happen.”

Peter nodded again as he bit down on his lip to keep it from wobbling. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve to stop the tears from falling. Mommy didn’t like when he cried, it always, always upset her. “OK, Mama…I can do that.” He could, really. It wouldn’t be too hard. It’d be just like things used to be in the old house. He’d always tried so hard to keep his Daddy happy so he wouldn’t hurt his Mommy.

Part of Peter, some deep, dark, terrified little part of himself hated his father for that. Hated him for hurting his mother. Hated him for coming back into their lives when everything was finally settling, when he and his Mommy were finally starting to be OK. When Mommy wasn’t crying at night in her bedroom anymore when she thought he was asleep…now his Daddy was going to come back and mess it all up.

“Oh, baby…” Her hands reached up and gently cupped his cheeks. She used her thumbs to gently wipe away the few tears that had escaped Peter’s frantic scrubbing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “But you’re my big, brave boy, and I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Peter, that I can’t…that I’m not protecting you like I should.” And damn it, her eyes were filling with tears again, and she couldn’t do this to Peter, she couldn’t be weak in front of him when he was trying so hard to be strong for her. She drew him into another embrace and rubbed his back. “We’ll be alright Petey…”

And God, Toni wanted to believe it.

Peter sniffled softly into his mother’s shoulder as he clutched onto her. He was gonna be a big boy. He had to be for his Mom…

When his Mommy and Daddy were getting a divorce, the lawyer; Mr. Xavier, told Peter he would be the man of the house, that he had to take care of his mother. That had always stuck with Peter, because it meant he should take care of Mama the way she took care of him. “I’ll do good Mom.” When they pulled apart again, he kissed her cheek. “I love you too, Mommy.”

Toni sniffed and smiled when Peter said he loved her. That was all she needed in order to do this, to deal with Steve and every other aspect of the hell that was her life. All she had, all she needed, was her little boy giving her that smile, saying those words, and it made everything; Every. Single. Thing. Worth it.

“When he leaves, we can reward ourselves by eating as much ice cream as we want! Or pie! I bet I can get your favorite from the diner.”

Peter would give up ever having ice cream again if it meant his Daddy wouldn’t hurt his Mama ever again. He’d never ask for pie from the diner if he and his mother could stay in this apartment, be happy and safe.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he gently tugged on his Mommy’s hand. “I gotta go to school, Mommy,” he whispered very seriously, looking almost solemn as he said it. If he cried at school, his mother wouldn’t see. He could hold it in until then. He’d be a big boy like he was supposed to be.

Toni nodded. “Yeah, Petey. Just give me a few minutes and we’ll be on our way.” With one last kiss to her son’s forehead, she got up and went into her room. The young woman tried not to focus on the idea that there was someone outside in a truck, currently listening to her change. Well, at least it was just a microphone.

After she was finished, Toni took Peter’s hand and walked out. Locking the apartment seemed pointless, but she did it anyway, if only to prove a point. Toni kept her eyes on Peter as they walked, chatting about school and what they’d been learning as she steadfastly ignored the very obvious truck and its unfamiliar driver.

When they finally arrived at the bust stop, Peter scurried to chat with his friends; Harry Osborn and Gwen Stacey. Toni greeted Harry’s nanny politely, before turning a slightly strained smile toward Mr. Stacey.

Or, really, Officer Stacey.

He was in his uniform, because he always was, unless it was the rare day off. George Stacey was a kind man, good-natured…but Toni couldn’t help but feel anxious around him. Part of her always wondered if it would suddenly click, if he would realize that the young single mother he chatted with in the morning, who was a waitress at his favorite diner, was the ex-wife of the most infamous (alleged) mobster in the state. If he did realize, Stacey never said anything.

Still, Toni tried to talk to him as little as possible.

When the bus arrived, Toni gave Peter one last kiss. “Knock ‘em out, kiddo,” Toni whispered with a wink.

Peter managed to give his mother a smile before climbing onto the bus. He sat between Gwen and Harry on the bus. Only when the bus pulled away, and he couldn’t see his mother anymore, did he let a few tears fall.

Toni watched the bus until it turned the corner, and then began her walk to work.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a kudo or comment. I read every single one and cherish them.


	6. Tonight it's "It can't get much worse..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the calm before the storm. Toni tries to go about her day normally with Steve's visit looming overhead. Meanwhile, it's business as usual for Steve. Clint's not sure why he's saying the things he is, but can't find it in himself to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been awhile! This chapter is mostly a set-up to the dinner. It gives a glimpse of other characters in this universe who may or may not play a bigger part later one. Warnings include mentioned non-con kissing and touching.

**7:45 AM**

Virginia “Pepper” Potts-Hogan was busy refilling the salt and pepper shakers when her husband passed by, sneaking a kiss to her cheek as he did. She shot a smile over her shoulder; she’d always admired the way her husband’s muscles flexed as he carried in the heavy bags of supplies.

“Somethin’ interesting, Pep?” Harold “Happy” Hogan asked as he finally set the sack of potatoes in the kitchen.

“Oh no, don’t mind me. Just admiring the view.”

They’d been married about ten years, and had owned the diner for the last five. They were doing a lot better than they had been in the beginning, and really, part of that was due to one employee. Not as many things to fix around the place since she’d started.  Pepper was wiping down the counter when the bell chimed, and said employee walked in.

“Morning, Toni!” Pepper chirped with a grin.

XxX

_Pepper looked up from where she’d been scrubbing down the counter to see a girl walk into the diner. She didn’t seem to fit the humble background she currently stood in. Pepper was pretty sure none of her clothes were knock-offs, and the sweater she was wearing might actually be cashmere. The heeled boots were covered in salt and snow, and really, it was a shame because they appeared to be real leather. The girl looked nervous; one hand was clutching her bag strap while the other fumbled with something in her pocket. Their eyes met, and Pepper watched as the girl seemed to straighten her spine before walking over._

_“Good morning, are you Virginia Potts?” she asked._

_Pepper was so unused to being called her actual name that it took her a moment to register the question. “Yes, that’s me. What can I help you with?”_

_“My name’s Toni Stark.” Pepper noted the slight hesitation in her voice as she said the name. “And I’m here to apply for your waitressing job.” She nodded to the ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window._

_Pepper immediately felt embarrassment and regret wash over her. “Wh—Happy! You were supposed to take that down!” she yelled, whirling around to look at her husband, who immediately looked contrite._

_“Aw, Pep. I’m sorry,” the man apologized, his eyes holding only sympathy for the girl._

_“Honey, I’m really sorry,” Pepper began, turning back toward Toni. “But we’re not hiring anymore.”_

_Toni’s face fell, and she looked slightly panicked. It made Pepper feel even worse. She’d been about to open her mouth when there was a clatter, a swear, and a clang. Pepper turned away from the girl to find her husband glaring at the grill. “Damn thing’s not working again!” Happy shouted. With a sigh, the redhead turned back to Toni._

_“This is why we can’t afford another hire,” she admitted. It was either a new grill, or a new employee. They couldn’t afford both._

_“I can fix it,” Toni said in a rush, seemingly surprising herself._

_Pepper blinked at her. Her gaze wandered over her very expensive clothes._

_The smaller woman seemed to steel herself. “I can. I can fix it. If I can’t, you just get a new one like you planned, but if I can…I want that job.”_

_Pepper stared at Toni before sighing. What did she have to lose?_

_“Alright,” she agreed. “Get to work.”_

_Toni smiled._

XxX

“Hey, Pep,” Toni replied. She skirted around the counter and headed toward the back.

Pepper noticed even at a glance that there was something different about Toni. She looked like she had more makeup on than usual. When the brunette returned, Pepper noted that her eyeliner had been drawn into a careful wing. Her cheeks held the gentle flush of some rosy blush. “Got a date later?”

Toni seemed to freeze before continuing to tie her waist apron. “No, not…a date,” she replied carefully. A thought seemed to strike her, and she turned to look at Happy through the window. “Hey…Boss? Could you maybe make me one of your delicious gluten and dairy free apple pies?” Toni batted her eyes and flashed him a smile.

Happy laughed good-naturedly. “Well, how can I say no to a face like that? One hipster pie, comin’ up!”

Pepper cocked an eyebrow at her friend as she turned back around. “Really? You have nothing going on later? Someone coming over?” she teased.

Toni’s right hand went to her left, playing with her ring finger in a nervous habit. “It’s not a date,” she repeated. “It’s just…we’re having company, and they have certain dietary restrictions.”

Pepper wanted to press, wanted to ask who was coming over. Maybe it was Peter’s mysterious father? She’d never met the man, and never asked Toni about it because it seemed like a sore subject. Maybe they were working things out…that would be nice. She could imagine Toni dating some kind of teacher, someone sweet and caring.

She was a wonderful mother, Pepper knew that because of the times she’d met Peter. He was well-behaved, smart, and sweet as can be. The few times Toni had been forced to bring him to work, Peter simply sat in the booth and colored, or read some comics.

Surely if the boy was that sweet, his father couldn’t be all bad, could he?

Pepper often wondered about the little family. Toni was rather tight lipped about her ex; Pepper didn’t even know if she’d been married young or if he’d only been a boyfriend. Some things made her think it might have been marriage, and if that was the case then it couldn’t have ended well. Really, when someone married that young at this day and age, it could hardly work out in her opinion. Still, as Happy had reminded her many times when she’d discussed asking the girl about it, it wasn’t her business. So Pepper kept her mouth shut, and resisted the urge to press further. Toni was a good worker. They liked having her here. That was all that mattered.

The door chimed again, and a group of uniformed officers walked in.

“Toni, I think that’s your table,” Pepper joked with a wave to the men.

The young woman glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “I’m on it, boss lady.” With a two fingered salute, Toni headed toward the table of men.

**8:10 AM**

“Good morning boys!” Toni chirped as she stood at the head of the booth. “Officer Stacey, long time no see. What will your wife think?” she teased.

George Stacy laughed good-naturedly. “It’s not my fault this diner happens to have the best coffee cake around! My wife’s addicted to the lemon meringue. She’d understand.”

Toni listened as the other officers joked and ribbed George. When they finally settled, she took their orders and went to give them to Happy. She tended to their coffee and respective drinks, before finally leaning against the counter. They weren’t usually busy until late morning to early afternoon. Perfect hours for a single mother. When Toni had accepted the occasional night shift, Peter had slept over Harry’s.

She tried not to think about why she avoided them now. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore.

Taking out her phone, Toni decided to text Steve. It was the very last thing she wanted to do, but for the sake of keeping him happy, she wanted to ask about his preference for dinner. She already had Happy making his favorite, even took into consideration his allergies.

_What do you want for dinner tonight?_

The reply came back mere moments later, which was startling, since around this time Steve would normally be getting any meetings out of the way. At least, that was what he used to do. It wasn’t like Toni knew his schedule anymore.

_You always made delicious spaghetti._

Asshole probably thought he was being generous with a compliment like that. Toni typed her agreement before returning her phone to her pocket. It was bad enough she’d have to dig through her closet to find something Steve considered suitable to wear, and now she had to somehow manage to get the groceries needed for marinara sauce, pick Peter up from school, and still make everything in time for his arrival. Steve always liked knocking her off-balance, and arriving early seemed to be just the thing he’d pull. She wondered if he’d bring Peter some sort of gift in some poor attempt at an apology, like he used to. Toni doubted she’d get anything like she used to...nothing she wanted, anyway.

**8:15 AM**

Clint kicked a trashcan in an attempt to dull the explosive edge to his anger. Steve had no right. No. Fucking. Right. To talk about Toni like that. Toni had tried so damn hard. Steve had put her through so much... Hearing them talk about her like that? Calling her a whore when Clint had seen with his own eyes how much she had hated being married to Steve. He'd caught the look in her eyes—the fury, the panic, the disgust; all flashing by in a moment whenever he saw Steve pull her against his body and start kissing her neck. Clint, at eighteen, had been far enough up the ladder that he'd been a guard in Steve's own home when they'd first gotten married. Sometimes when Steve had 'business' partners over for dinner he'd pull Toni into his lap and start kissing her neck as a show of power. A 'fuck you, you're an insect'. To the person he was having dinner with—and Clint had seen how much Toni hated it. Even back then, she hadn’t wanted Steve touching her.

He’d watched her do everything she could, for years, to try and appease Steve’s anger. But it never mattered. It never mattered at all because what Steve wanted, Steve got. If he wanted to hurt her, he was going to. If he wanted to have sex with Toni, he was going to…regardless of her feelings on the matter.  

Honestly, Clint wouldn’t put it past Steve to actually use handcuffs.

Checking his phone, Clint realized he had hours before he had to replace Brock. He’d have to plant all the microphones and cameras…and maybe, if he timed it just right, he could tell Toni before she went inside. At least give her a little bit of a warning, so she’d be able to…to what? She couldn’t stop Steve from watching her, potentially knowing her every move, every word. All Toni could do was watch what she said, and what Peter said.

Hopefully that would be enough.

When the anger finally drained away, Clint was only left feeling…gross. Wrong. He only knew one place he could turn to, only one person who would understand. He climbed toward his car and headed toward the state prison.

**8:30 AM**

Natasha was, as promised, working in the warehouse. Her green eyes took stock of every movement the young men made as they loaded boxes and crates full of different ‘products’. What Steve and the others liked to call ‘kids’ was really a group comprised of mostly teenaged boys Steve had found off the street. Some of them were former hookers, others addicts, some were simply homeless and desperate. Steve had developed a skill to pick out just what type of person he could bend to his will.

A pair of arms slipped around her waist, accompanied by a familiar voice in her ear.

“ _Hello_ ,” James whispered. He didn’t stumble over the pronunciation. His Russian was nearly perfect…though she didn’t like to think about the reason why.

“James,” she returned, turning her head to nuzzle his jaw.

_“How long have you been supervising this little piggy?”_ he asked, shooting a look at one of the kids when he dared look over upon hearing Russian.  

Natasha snorted. _“I’m not even sure this one can read.”_

_“Come now, Natalia,”_ he chided, pronouncing her true name in her mother tongue. _“No need to be so judgmental. The boy seems to being doing alright. You know how the young ones are. Takes them awhile to find their place.”_ He placed a kiss just below her ear and nipped lightly. _“Can I convince you to come away with me? If only for a little while? You're so tense...and I know a way to fix that.”_ Bucky kissed her cheek.

Natasha hummed softly as she tilted her head back. Bucky trailed his mouth along her pulse. The kid had the common sense to keep his eyes on the inventory. Natasha could definitely give him points for that. _“If you're thinking a massage, I could certainly do for one.”_ She murmured teasingly, leaning back to look at him. _“I'm sure I could return the favor.”_ She turned slowly, long, slender fingers dragging up his abs to his chest, where she could feel his heart thrum under her hand. The redhead was not a tall woman, nor was she particularly big…but there was an air of confidence about her that made her seem larger than she was. Most women, hell, most people, went their entire lives without possessing it.

She needed a distraction…from quite a few things that were weighing on her mind.

“Keeping working,” Nat ordered in English before facing her soldier. _“Lead the way, darling.”_     

**2:00 PM**

Brock glanced in his rearview mirror as a familiar car pulled up behind his truck. He could see Barton behind the wheel. The guy looked tense, but not as strung out as he usually did. Wasn’t his concern, really…but details had always kept Brock alive. Noting every facial tick, every movement had helped him make it this far. It was how he’d known, walking into that room almost a year ago, that despite the blood and brain matter spattered on Steve Roger’s shoes and the floor, the man wasn’t going to kill him.

 And now here the young man was; watching the Boss’ kid and ex.

Brock climbed out of the car and headed to Barton’s. The blond rolled down the window without prompting. “Hey,” Brock greeted. “Boss had me go inside. I found a Glock 43 hidden in the wall of her closet, and a knife taped to the back of her headboard. Sent him the pictures already but just thought I’d let you know in case she tried anything.”

Even if she didn’t seem like the type.

He noticed a shopping bag of what looked like empty Tupperware in the passenger seat, but didn’t say anything, even if it was out of place.

The look Clint gave him was closer to a grimace than anything else. His eyes darted to the apartment they both sat outside of daily.

“Well, I’m gonna head out then. I’m on guard duty tonight.” With some of what the other boys called ‘the inner circle’. Sam and Bucky were on duty…which was only slightly less terrifying than Natasha and Bucky on duty. Sam was one of those people who blindly followed ‘the Captain’ no matter where he went.

Brock would never be like that, but he could play along.

He gave Clint a lazy salute before climbing back into his truck and pulling away.

Clint didn’t know much about Brock. The kid had been brought in by Steve just before…well, just before he was taken by Loki. Brock was a former hired gun for Alexander Pierce. He’d apparently walked in on his old boss’ murder when Steve decided to spare him…which was odd, because Brock was older than Steve usually went for. Really, Clint should have looked into him more. He usually did a background check on these kids. He needed to know who he was surrounded by, especially since this guy was around Toni and Peter. It was already strange enough that Steve put a relatively new kid on a job like this.

Clint sighed as he climbed out of the car, bag in hand. He took in the idea of what he was about to do before sullenly crossing the street.

**3:15 PM**

The rest of Toni’s day passed as usual. She delivered her food and collected her tips. By the end of the shift, she was counting her tips with her fellow second-shifters in an open booth, exhausted.  She had to leave for the bus stop soon. Peter usually went to Harry's house after school, and then was dropped off at the apartment by the chauffeur, Thomas Church. It meant Toni could work later. But today…today they had to go straight home so they’d be ready for Steve’s visit.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she called to Pepper and Happy. With her bag of ingredients and pie clutched in her hand, she set off.

She finally met with Peter and thanked the Mr. Church for keeping an eye on him before they started to walk back to the apartment. She noticed the sticker on the potted plant and smiled.

"Looks like someone had the best show and tell," she said, kissing his head. They began their walk back to the apartment.

Peter beamed at his mother as she commented on his ivy plant, nodding his head proudly as they walked down the street. "Would it be okay if I showed daddy?" he asked, looking up at her questioningly.

Talking to his Daddy was hard. As a father Steve had been just distant enough to where Peter felt like he didn’t know him very well, scary enough that Peter didn’t want him around to hurt his Mom…but he still craved the man’s approval, like any other son. He wanted his father to be proud of him.

It was all very confusing.

"Of course you can show Daddy. You can talk about school all you want. I think he'll be very proud of you," Toni said, smiling down at Peter and squeezing his hand. "You can tell him all about your comic books, and your friends...just don't say that Mr. Stacey is a cop...” The warning was gentle, but present. “But you can talk about Gwen all you want!" She tried to think of other things they could talk about. "You can talk about when we go to the park and...and if you want, you could ask of he'd like to take you sometime." The young woman held up the plastic bag she was carrying. "You can talk about which pie from the diner is your favorite!" She laughed in an attempt to remain cheery. "I brought home some apple pie…and you and I are going to be making spaghetti for dinner! How’s that sound?”

“Good!” Peter cheered.

**3:45 PM**

They were having a pleasant enough chat when her eyes caught the sight of a familiar figure standing ahead of them, waiting. Toni knew who it was before they got close enough. She'd memorized the body language of all of Steve's closest members. It always helped her. Though hunched and thinner than before, it was unmistakably Clint.

"You shouldn't talk about the cameras, Peter," she added in a whisper. "Or how long Uncle Clint stayed, or that he read to you...OK?" Toni hated that she had to get so serious so fast, but it was the only way they would get through this.

"You can run ahead now and give Uncle Clint a hug. I'm sure he'd love to hear all about show and tell," Toni added with a smile.

Peter nodded his head eagerly. He let go of her hand and ran toward Clint.

Toni smiled as she watched Clint crouch down to accept Peter into his arms.

“Hi Uncle Clint!” Peter said when they finally pulled apart. “Look! I got a sticker for Show and Tell!”

“That’s…that’s great kiddo. Awesome job.” Clint ruffled his hair. His eyes darted to Toni as she walked up to them. She looked on edge, but not terrified. Not yet. She was still smiling for Peter.

“There’s more cameras!” Clint blurted before she could say a single word.

He regretted it immediately, as he watched Toni’s mouth close (she was probably about to greet him, but he couldn’t hold the words in). He could see her thinking his words over.

“There’s…there’s mics in every room, and cameras everywhere except the bathroom,” he elaborated quietly.

Peter looked from his uncle to his mother, not speaking a word.

“Peter,” Toni finally broke the silence that had fallen over the trio. “Why don’t you take the bags inside? If you have any homework you can pull it out. I’ll be in after I talk to Uncle Clint.” She handed the boy the keys to the apartment. “Look both ways!” she reminded unnecessarily. She watched him do as instructed before scurrying across the street.

Toni watched Clint straighten. He couldn’t really look at her, and she didn’t know why. Maybe he felt bad for carrying out Steve’s orders…but she understood. No one could refuse Steve.

“I…” she cleared her throat. “Thank you, for telling me. I really appreciate it.” And she did, because Clint didn’t have to help her. He didn’t have to tell her anything. He didn’t have to comfort her or be her friend, and he chose to, at risk to himself.

Clint shook his head. “I just wish I could do more.”

Toni smiled sadly and reached out to squeeze his hand. “Hey…telling me was enough. Knowledge is power.”

Clint huffed a quiet, “Yeah.”

“And who knows? Maybe I can convince him to at least take the camera out of Peter’s room. Maybe I can…trade him, or something.” Maybe he was having tech problems. Maybe she could leverage something against him.

"I don't know..." Trade him...Clint thought about what Steve and Bucky had been saying earlier; the fucking disgusting things they'd been saying about Toni and he just needed to stop thinking about it. It was only going to make him sick and angry. "You know he's stubborn when it comes to Peter... You'd have to have him in an awfully good mood. Even then, I wouldn't count on him actually doing it."

“Peter doesn't deserve to be watched and listened to every moment like a prisoner," Toni sighed. Neither did she, really, but this was about Peter. "I...he wants Peter to like him, and this'll only make him more afraid. I-I know that's good for me, but...it's...it's not good for what we're trying to do—to get along and," Toni cut herself off abruptly, before the words _to survive_ , slipped out. "I'm sorry. Thank you for telling me about the cameras. You don't want to listen to me ramble." The last thing she needed to do was annoy or piss off Clint. He was her only ally, in all this. “I’ll bring you some leftovers, OK?”

Clint didn't realize he was reaching out until his hands were on her shoulders. Just like the night before, he was pulling her into a careful embrace, a quick one, so no one would see. "It's okay, Toni." He muttered as he pulled away. "Don’t you worry about me. You don’t owe me anythin’." She certainly didn't owe Steve anything. "I'll get out of your way. If you need anything, call, alright? Just...anythin’."

Toni wanted to lean into the contact again, but suddenly Clint wasn't there. She managed to smile a bit at his hurried, stuttered speech. "It's just leftovers Clint, relax about it," she replied in a soft, playful tone. "Besides...I'll probably need some air by the end of the night...just to, you know," she shrugged helplessly. "Get away from all the eyes and ears currently lurking in my home." And Steve, but she wasn't exactly sure how everything was going to go tonight, or how she and Steve would end up..."But, yeah, I'll...I'll call you if I need anything." Anything that didn't have to do with Steve, that is, because Clint is first and foremost Steve's, before he's anything that has to do with Toni.

"Alright... Alright." He smiled a little, hesitating before speaking again. "Maybe I can get you coffee sometime? Give you a chance to get away from it all." And he didn't know why he said it. It was a terrible, awful idea. But Clint wasn’t going to take it back. He was worried about her. Her and Peter both. It was worry that made him want to get coffee, to give her a break. That’s all.

Toni was surprised by the offer, and she didn't want to read too much into it, but...but she liked the idea of getting out of the apartment and away from her life for a little while. "I, yeah, that sounds...really, really nice, actually," she said. She lifted a hand to her hair and tucked some behind her ear in an old, nervous habit. "I'd love to," she added with a smile. Maybe she could forget about everything and just pretend to be...normal. Just as she did last night, Toni leaned close and kissed Clint's cheek quickly. "You're very sweet Clint. I'll see you later." 

Clint’s face lit up like a stoplight. “Y-yeah. Yeah. See you later.” He turned quickly and headed back toward his car. Last thing he needed was some nosy neighbor to see the exchange and wonder what kind of boyfriend Toni had—hanging around the neighborhood like he did was bound to draw eyes if he was linked to Toni…and she didn’t need any more trouble.  

With one last wave, Toni went into the home that had become a cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was overwhelmed by the comments from the last chapter, thank you so much! Keep it up because comments and kudos keep me going! Comments are like my all time favorite things and I admit to reading and rereading them all to get your feedback. The next chapter will be intense, and should follow soon.


	7. Versus "No one should ever feel like..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a lesson he wants to teach Peter at dinner. Toni's just hoping to survive the night. Brock is attempting to fit in as he keeps watch with Sam and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the warnings for this chapter, which include: domestic violence, non-con kissing and touching, mild injury, victim blaming, and implied non-con. Further explanation can be found at the end notes.  
> Finally I have returned! Things have been crazy on my end so I made this chapter extra long. Hope you guys enjoy. Please leave a kudos and comment, as I'm especially curious as to what you all think of this chapter.

**4:00 PM**

"Peter, honey," Toni called as she shut the door. "Do you have any homework?" It would be best to get that out of the way now, before she started on dinner and everything else. Besides...she needed to tell him about the extra cameras and microphones without being suspicious.

“No Mommy!” Peter yelled, poking his head out from his room. He’d been putting his plant back in place, and then digging through his comics to see which his Daddy might like to talk about. Sometimes his Daddy would buy him comics. Mommy said that would be a good thing to talk about…and if they talked about comics, then his Daddy wouldn’t be mad. “Can we start dinner now?”

“Of course Peter,” Toni replied. There really was no time to lose. The quicker dinner was done, the quicker she and Peter could finish getting ready. It was all about presentation for Steve. Besides, if they looked nice…maybe Steve would be happy about it. Tonight was _about_ keeping Steve happy.

Toni grabbed the little stool Peter used and placed it in front of the counter. “Come on, up, up, up. We have to start on the sauce.” First the sauce, then they’d get dressed, and then the pasta. As long as Toni kept her mind focused on what she had to do next, she’d stay calm. She wouldn’t think about all the dinners with Steve that had come before this. All the times he’d hurt her because she hadn’t worn the right thing, or made the right dish. It was a process; just one thing after another after another. Fear didn’t have to enter into it.

Not right now.

“I wanna mash the tomatoes!” Peter told her eagerly. He placed his hands on the countertop and grinned at his mother. “I already washed my hands!” The boy held them up for inspection. His mother peered at them before nodding.

“Alright, they look good,” she praised.

“I’m gonna tell Daddy about my Superman comic book,” Peter said as he watched his mother wash her hands. His Daddy would like that…and if he was happy, he wouldn’t hit his Mom. “Daddy kinda looks like Superman.” Which was a fair, if interesting observation for the boy to make. Steve was large and muscled. He had those big blue eyes and the charming smile down. Dye his hair black, and he could be ready to play the part.

“I think Daddy would like talking about Superman with you,” Toni agreed as she started to cut the tomatoes and put them into a bowl for Peter. She hummed noncommittedly when Peter said Steve could be Superman. No one would ever suspect Steve of doing anything wrong. He looked like an American dream. Steve was more of a waking nightmare in reality, but she wasn’t one for discouraging her son.

She remembered one such instance while they were still married. He’d been pulled over for a minor traffic violation by an ungreased cop. Toni had been in the passenger seat with a split lip and a rapidly forming black eye. A pound of methamphetamine was in the trunk. All Steve did was chat the officer up, smile, and assure him that all was well. The cop hadn’t even written it up.

“Does that make you Superboy?” she asked, coming out of her thoughts as she passed him the bowl of tomatoes.  

Peter huffed and shook his head. “No, m’Robin.” He picked up the wooden spoon and started mashing. He giggled as some tomato squirted onto his cheek. “You’re Batman, Mom. Cause you’re so smart.”

“Oh, I see. So you and I are a team,” Toni replied as she wiped his face. “Mash those tomatoes up boy wonder!” she declared in her best Batman voice, which only resulted in Peter breaking out into giggles. It was nice to hear, that Peter thought she was so smart. Her genius had once been a point of pride, but now, her little boy’s smile, that little laugh, meant more to her than anything she’d ever accomplished. Peter was her greatest, and most loved, creation.

Even if it was laughable; the idea that she could be a hero. Toni couldn’t protect herself from Steve, let alone her son.

“We should watch Teen Titans!” Peter said as he continued to squish the tomatoes. He and Harry liked to watch ‘Titans Go!’ when they hung out after school. His nanny told them they couldn’t watch the real Teen Titans until they were ten, which was really, really unfair, because everyone knew that the first one was way cooler…but she was a nice lady otherwise. Glancing up at his mother, Peter grinned when he found his mother looking happy. He loved it when his Mommy was happy. It used to only happen when they were alone; playing games or pretend. It didn’t seem like she’d ever been really, _really_ happy in the old house. It was only in the last year that Peter noticed his mother seem happier; since she and his daddy got divorced.

“Maybe after Daddy leaves,” Toni replied, wanting to keep Peter’s spirits up. There was no telling how long Steve would stay. In the best case scenario, he would stay for maybe an hour after dinner before getting called away for business. The worst case…the worst case, she didn’t like to think about. If she thought about it too much, then she wouldn’t be able to hold it together.

“Okay!” Peter nodded his head eagerly as he gave the tomatoes a few final mashes. He passed the bowl over to his mother for approval. The boy’s thoughts drifted to when they used to watch TV together as a family. Most times it was Saturday morning cartoons. Mommy would always wake up first, and then Peter. After breakfast if Daddy wasn’t busy he’d sit on the couch with him and Mommy, watching whatever was on. Peter missed those times. He missed having a family. He knew that his Mommy was happier now. And he knew that his Daddy hurt her, but…when Daddy was nice, Peter liked having him around. Peter just didn’t like how he acted all the time. Daddy scared him, a lot of the time.

Peter wondered if Daddy would be nice tonight.

Because there had been times when Daddy was nice. One time Peter could remember they all made dinner together. Their house was really, really huge, even bigger than Harry’s fancy apartment, and the kitchen was large to match. Despite that, they somehow managed to get flour all over. Daddy hadn’t been angry, in fact, he’d laughed and thrown flour at Mommy. She’d had to clean it up, but dinner was good and Daddy was in a good mood all night. Hopefully tonight would be the same.

“That’s great mashing Robin!” Toni praised before adding the tomatoes to the pot. “We can tell Daddy you helped with dinner. I’m sure he’ll be proud. I bet he’ll think this is even better than mine!”

“Nu-uh, Mommy. You’re the _best_ cook.” Peter liked his Mommy’s cooking a lot. It was better than when they used to go out to eat. It hadn’t been a lot, but sometimes, his Daddy had taken them to fancy restaurants. There were always men eating with them that he was pretty sure his father didn’t like, and the men always brought their families, even though it didn’t seem like they liked his Daddy either.  Peter hated those dinners because he had to dress in itchy clothes, sit still and be good, and eat whatever food he was given. It was never chicken nuggets or anything close to something the boy would want to eat. It always tasted really bad. Most of all, Peter didn’t like how upset his Mommy always looked when they had to go to those dinners.

Toni didn’t remember those dinners fondly, either. Steve would use them to prove how powerful and cocky he was. She hated those restaurants, hated that she had to show these people her son, but the one and only time Toni had spoken to Steve about it, she wound up with a fractured ulna and a mild concussion. The subject was never breached again.

It was the closest Peter had ever come to seeing his father work. Peter had never been kidnapped, like his mother. He'd never watched Steve blow someone’s brains out right in front of him. Peter had always been carefully shielded from the violent side of the business…even though Steve had no problem hurting Toni in front him.

Peter’s compliment meant a lot to Toni. She had learned to cook from the butler's wife in her own home. Mrs. Jarvis had been born in England, yet loved to dabble in all sorts of cooking. It was she who took Toni under her wing to teach her the things everyone should know about proper home care. She'd loved those times with the woman, standing on a little wooden stool just like Peter and being allowed to do small tasks. Toni loved passing on these recipes to her little boy.

And like Peter, cooking had always been a distraction for her as a child, a distraction from her father and his business, from his anger. Toni tried to do the same with Peter, only, when Steve eventually made his way into their bubble, she tried to keep it a safe place and mostly succeeded.

"Thank you for saying that, Peter," she smiled and kissed his temple. "Should we add some cheese, now?” she asked once all of the other ingredients were bubbling in the pot.

"Cheese is the best _part_ ." Peter told her certainly, leaning over on his stool to see what she was doing in the pot. When they caught eyes, he grinned. “And it’s _true_ , Mommy. You’re the best.” And no, he wasn't buttering her up in an attempt to try the sauce. Peter wasn't a manipulative kid.  It was something Steve had absently commented as being a shame.

Growing up, everything Steve owned came from manipulating people into giving it to him. His father spent all of his money on heroine, and his mother was too sick to work; which left little Steve Rogers to fend for himself. Any food, any money that came in was the result of Steve sitting on the corner to beg near the 55+ housing. Those old people took one look at his raggedy, hand-me-down clothes and damn near emptied their pockets for him. The begging worked until he was eleven, then he figured out that he could make a lot more money running drugs for the Irish mob. No one ever suspected him. Back then, he'd been so small and sick looking a wind might have blown him over.

But Peter wasn’t anything like his father. He was small for his age, but he wasn’t cunning, and he certainly wasn’t anything close to cruel. Most who knew him chalked up his disposition to Toni. Peter was young, too young to understand what it might mean to grow up like his father. Too young to truly understand his mother’s efforts. Too young to fully grasp that his father was a bad person. He knew that Steve hurt people; that he hurt his mother, but…what little boy, underneath everything else, _didn’t_ want to be like his father?    

It was just a matter of whether or not Peter would grow out of it.

"You're right. I think it is too.” Toni asked as she went into the bag of ingredients Pepper and Happy had given her and pulled out two hunks of cheese. The cheap hand grater emerged from a drawer, and she gave everything to Peter. "Here, you can start to grate the cheese. Watch your fingers," she warned.

“I know.”

As Toni cleaned up a bit, she took in the sight of him so concentrated on his task. His little tongue was poking out as his hand moved over the cheese with the grater, creating a little mound of shredded cheese. His hands were too small to do the job effectively, but her son was nothing if not persistent. He clearly didn’t plan on giving up until they had enough for the sauce.  

As the mound grew, Toni would scoop it up and drop it into the pot. After the cheese, they could let it simmer for a while. Peter could play, and she could finish getting ready; redo her hair and touch up her makeup. She and Peter had to look good tonight. He’d told her (warned her) to wear something pretty. Image had always been so very important to Steve. The one and only time Toni had forgotten they were having guests and dressed down, he dragged her away, punched her stomach, then forced her into one of those tight dresses; resulting in Toni having to pretend that no, broken ribs forced into what was the modern equivalent of a corset didn't hurt at all.

Once the cheese was all done, Toni placed the lid on the pot and turned the heat down. "Let's get you changed for dinner, and then I'm gonna get go ready while you play. Or you can watch TV. I think our sauce is going to taste great."

“Do I gotta wear my sweater?” Peter pouted as his mother lifted him off the stool. “It’s itchy.” He knew that Daddy always used to expect them to dress up for dinner. Peter noticed that his Mommy’s makeup was a lot different today; that it looked more like it used to back at the old house. His father never left the house without a tie. He always told Peter that appearances were important. He said if you didn’t dress like someone who should be respected, you wouldn’t get respect. Daddy used to spend a lot of money on clothes for all of them. Mommy always had expensive dresses, and Peter had more dress pants than jeans.

That didn’t mean Peter liked dressing up though, and Mommy seemed more comfortable in the clothes she had now.

"I'm sorry, Peter," Toni sighed. "But you know that Daddy likes when we dress up. If you don't wear the sweater, you have to find something else just as nice." Toni bit her lip, trying to think of what else he might wear. She carried him into his room and pulled out a pair of pants and his shiny, little leather shoes. "You can pick a shirt, as long as it’s nice…something like what you’d wear for dinner with your uncles, remember?" she said gently.

“I didn’t like dinner with my uncles,” the boy replied honestly.  They had only ever been nice to him and his Mommy when his Daddy was watching. Well, most of them… “Cept Uncle Clint.”

Toni flinched as Peter talked about how much he didn't like those dinners. The terrified part of her wanted to shake the boy and tell him to be quiet, to not say such things with cameras and mics around, least he piss Steve off; the bigger part of her sympathized with her son. "I know you didn't, baby...and I know you like Uncle Clint because he's always nice to you, but tonight it’s just gonna be you, me, and Daddy."

Peter didn’t look happy at the idea. He’d been dreading dinner all day. If he told Mommy that, then she’d just be more upset. “I wanna wear red,” Peter finally decided. Red was his favorite color, so if he had to dress up, he’d rather wear something he liked.

Toni nodded and turned toward his closet. She pulled out two little button-downs and the dreaded sweater. Letting Peter pick his own clothes may help him feel a little empowered, a little less helpless about what would happen tonight. "Do you want to try and match? Like a team?"

Peter shook his head. “No Mommy. I wear red…like Robin. And you…can you wear that dark blue dress? Batman’s blue…” That way they’d be like the Dynamic Duo themselves, and maybe if his Mommy was dressed kinda like a superhero, she wouldn’t be able to get hurt. If he was Robin, maybe he could save her if he had to.

“That’s…” Toni trailed off and looked down at her son. She grinned and scooped him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I think that’s a great idea, Petey. I’ll go change and finish getting ready. You change too, alright?”

“Okay Mommy,” Peter agreed.

With one last kiss, Toni left him on his own.

She stepped into her bedroom and headed toward the closet. The dress Peter was talking about was toward the back, among the few more expensive things she’d taken from Steve’s house. The dress was a deep navy, which was perhaps what made Peter think it resembled Batman. The cartoons Peter watched tended to adopt the old blue and gray interpretation of the character instead of the all-black Dark Knight that was so popular now.

Toni’s fingers finally brushed the beaded lace bodice. Pulling it from the closet, she frowned; the v of the neckline seemed a lot deeper than she remembered. Then again, the entire reason she brought this dress with her when she left was because it was more conservative. Steve’s taste tended toward the tight and revealing. The top may be form-fitting, and gave a bit of cleavage; but the skirt was a-line, which made it easy to move in. It was something she would have worn back then, as Toni Stark: heir to Stark Industries.    

Coming out of her thoughts, Toni decided not to waste any time and grabbed the dress. Steve would be coming probably sooner than his scheduled 6:30. If she wasn’t completely ready by the time he showed up…well, it wouldn’t be good for her. So she walked toward the bathroom, the last room that afforded her some privacy.

“No cameras here, right Clint?” she mumbled as she stripped off her clothes.

**5:00 PM**

Sam Wilson sat outside a warehouse in the Meatpacking District of Manhattan, idly shuffling and bridging a stack of faded cards. It was the same pack he’d had since his first and only tour in Afghanistan. They’d do for what he had in mind for tonight. It was just going to be a few rounds of poker during watch, petty bets…nothing crazy. He and Bucky were stuck on guard duty with whoever else came along.

Sam had been nineteen the night he met Steve Rogers. He’d been back from the Sand Box for a month. There had been something that was stuck under his skin, something he couldn’t identify until the night someone picked a fight with him at a shitty bar. The fight dragged out to the parking lot, until Sam finally grabbed a bottle from the ground and smashed the guy in the face. Blood spattered—head wounds always bled a lot—and Sam was about to check the man’s pulse when he heard someone behind him. Gripping the remainder of the bottle, he turned to find Steve Rogers, looking more confident than any twenty-five-year-old had any right to be. Sam only learned later that confidence came from owning more of New York City than any corporation or real estate mogul could ever dream to obtain.

Steve had recognized the look in his eye; the itch he hadn’t been able to identify earlier. It was a craving for violence, for action, for something more than the monotony of civilian life.

Why wouldn’t Sam follow him?

Sam was roused from his thoughts by Bucky Barnes greeting him. Even if he couldn’t yet see the man, he recognized his voice. Honestly, Sam appreciated the warning. Sneaking up on people around here had ended poorly before; a knife to the shoulder, a dislocated knee, three broken noses, and once, a severed finger. The latter had been because one of the older kids decided to ‘haze’ the new kids by telling them to sneak up on the higher ups. Natasha had been pissed when she found out. Bruce hadn’t been able to reattach the digit.

Bucky sat down beside him and lit a cigarette. He and Sam had an understanding, as men who had served their country. Bucky went to war because he was too poor to afford college, while Sam had been the idealistic patriot type. Content to march along to his doom for fellow man and country and all that…

Most of that type didn’t last long. They either died in combat, had it trained out of them, or wound up offing themselves. Bucky still wondered if Sam might do himself in. Wouldn’t surprise him, given the type of life they lead. Course, Bucky could be wrong. By the time Sam had joined, Bucky was trying to recover from the Russians, trying to shed the Winter Soldier and become Bucky Barnes once more. Hell, some days he still didn’t know which he was.

“Any action?” he asked, dispelling those thoughts from his mind as he blew a smoke ring into the air. Nat had taught him.

“Nah, nothing,” Sam replied as he pulled out his own cancer stick. Bucky wordlessly lit the end. “We haven’t had trouble for the last six years we’ve been here, and I’m not expecting any now.”

“Never know, with the fuckin’ inbreeds,” James replied, thinking of Laufeyson and Odinson. He looked like he was about to say more when he caught sight of Steve walking out of the warehouse that housed his office. The blond saw them, and waved with his only free arm, before continuing to walk off.

“Where’s he going? His dinner’s not until 6:30,” Sam glanced at his watch. “And what the hell is he carrying?”

“Present for the kid, someone dropped it off earlier. He wanted to surprise the bitch early, and you know how traffic is in the city.”

Sam snorted. “I don’t envy Rumlow and Barton, I’ll tell you that.”

“Which one of ‘ems stuck patrolling the kiddie pool?”

“Clint’s got Bitch Watch.” An old joke, one they hadn’t had to use in a while. Babysitting was what they called patrolling the kiddie pool, and Bitch Watch was a play on the old show Baywatch, because it was almost exactly like Toni: nice to look at, but lacking substance.

Bucky paused to flick ash from the tip of his cigarette. “Didn’t think Steve would trust Rumlow with the bitch and the brat.”

Sam watched one of their trucks pull away for a moment, rolling a question around in his mind. They didn’t often talk about the kids, really. They were grunts. Some of them would rise through the ranks and others would remain where they were, gradually building trust to carry more and more product.

“What do you think of Rumlow?” he finally broke the silence by voicing his thoughts.

"Kid wants to get in with the top dogs," Bucky replied. "Can't blame 'em. Bein' a grunt in this business blows, but he gets the job done."  

Sam shrugged his shoulders, letting out a slow breath of smoke. "Kid’s got ambition, that's for sure."  Rumlow was professional, followed orders to the letter, and seemed eager to do anything that concerned the higher ups. Maybe it was idol worship, wouldn’t be the first time, around here. All the kids idolized Steve, but that was the point. Brock Rumlow didn’t seem like the type to get lost in that kinda thing. His eyes were too sharp, too knowing. Maybe he just wanted to get close to the boss so he could _be_ the boss one day. "Steve seems to like him, though. God knows he's a judge of character." Steve knew who to trust, keep close, watch carefully- it was one of the reasons Sam respected him.

Too bad that all seemed to go out the window where Toni fucking Stark was concerned.

“There’s just somethin’ about him I don’t like,” Bucky replied.  

"He's too smart." Sam muttered, shaking his head. "Most guys on the bottom-they gotta be pretty dumb, you know?" Like in the military, you needed people dumb enough to walk into gunfire for you. It was a delicate balance to find someone smart enough to understand orders, but dumb enough to follow them. "For his sake, better hope he's not too smart... You remember what happened to Sitwell."

“Nobody’s ever gonna forget what happened to Sitwell. Guy shoulda stopped sticking his nose where it didn't belong," Bucky suppressed a shudder. "I think Rumlow's smart enough to avoid endin' up like Sitwell." The old man had thought he could outthink Steven Rogers, thought he was smarter than the boss and tried to do some dirty dealings with another gang. Steve, in his most dramatic fashion, had decided that the snake didn't deserve a quick death and locked him in an old junker right before the car was to be crushed. Bucky still wasn't convinced that the crunching sounds he'd heard were all metal. "But I also think he's smart enough to know his value to Steve and not push it."

“Speak of the devil,” Sam watched as a familiar truck approached. When the driver stepped out, they waved him over.

“Brock!” Bucky grinned as he clapped the young man on the back. “Just in time! We’re about to start a new round! Deal him in, Sam.”

**6:00 PM**

Toni was busy in the kitchen, clicking around on the cheap linoleum in her heels as she got everything ready. The pasta was cooking, the sauce simmering, and the counter was clean. She just had to finish setting the table. "Peter, honey," she called. "Dinner's almost ready." What she really meant was that Steve would be here soon, and she needed everything to be just so. If everything was ready and perfect, Steve wouldn't have a reason to complain or make any untoward comments.

Just for a moment, as she shut the door to the refrigerator, she allowed herself to be overwhelmed by all this. Steve was coming back into her life whether she liked it or not, and he now had total control of her life again. Toni's forehead pressed into the cool metal of the fridge as she sighed. She could do this. She had to do this. He would be coming, and she had to be ready. There was no other option.

"Hey Clint," she said in a quiet voice. "Wanna come to dinner?" It was a terrible joke, because there was no way Steve would allow it.

In that moment, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him, Clint murmured, “I wish, Toni." His eyes drifted to look at the feed for Peter’s room. He watched as the boy huffed in response to his mother calling him, forcing him to put down his Superman action figure on the floor and running out of his bedroom. With a quick click of his mouse Clint was looking at them both through the kitchen camera.

Peter scrambled up onto his stool to have a look at the pasta cooking. He turned around to say something to his mother, but stopped when he caught the look on her face. "Are you okay mommy?" He asked.

Toni felt panic rise inside her when Peter asked if she was alright. He wasn’t supposed to know when she was upset.  She smiled. "Of course I'm alright, Peter."

He watched his Mommy’s face change, and Peter didn’t have the words to describe the look, but he knew it wasn’t nice. Then she put on that fake smile again. Peter knew it was fake because it was always too stretched out. It made Mommy’s face get lines, and she didn’t have lines normally. The little boy reached up and touched her cheeks, trying to push her smile to look normal again. Mommy crossed her eyes, which made him giggle, then she bent down to kiss his forehead.  

“We’ll be OK, baby.”

When they heard the knock, she swallowed hard but kept her smile, for Peter. "Everything will be alright," she stated with one last kiss to his cheek.

Even if he was early, Toni knew she couldn't keep Steve waiting. She took one last breath before opening the door. There was Steve, dressed up in a suit as he usually was. For a moment, Toni felt fear paralyze her to her spot.

“Hello darling,” Steve gave her that old sweet, deceptive smile. After kissing her cheek, he stepped passed her and into the apartment. “Here. For dinner.” He handed her the bottle of wine he’d picked up on the way.

Toni didn’t really drink anymore, but Steve knew that already.

She took the bottle with a strained smile. “You're early," Toni said. "Dinner's close to being done, but not quite finished." Her eyes landed on the box, and she had no idea what was inside. "Peter, Daddy's here," she called to the little boy.   

Peter hesitated on the edge of the kitchen floor, looking almost shy as he looked at his parents together for the first time in over a year. As soon as Steve put the box on the ground and opened his arms, the boy went running to give him a hug. It’d been sweet when he did the same with Clint. With Steve, Toni couldn’t help but look at the way her baby looked so small in those huge arms.

“Brought you that present I promised,” Steve murmured as he pulled away. He brought the box between them, and just to tease Peter, slowly opened the cardboard top.

Peter was practically bouncing on his toes in anticipation.

Finally a glass terrarium appeared, and inside, hiding under a piece of wood was the biggest spider Peter had ever seen in person.

“Mommy, Mommy _look_!” He shouted as he scrambled onto his hands and knees to look at it.

Steve turned his gaze to Toni. The smug grin made her skin crawl.

“He said you weren’t allowed to have dogs.”

A wan smile was the only response she could muster for a few long moments. "I see it Peter. It's very cool. Very thoughtful of you, Steve," the last part was said a little drily, but she hoped Peter wouldn't notice. Toni always hated when Steve would try to buy their affections with gifts, and that feeling hadn't changed. Peter wasn't quite old enough to realize that his father bought him presents as a way to get him to like him more.  After placing the wine on the end table, she smiled and crouched down to pick up the glass box. "Let's go put this on your desk, OK?" she said, leading the way to Peter's room with the boy following alongside.

“Yeah! OK!” Peter loved spiders. To the point where he'd even gotten in trouble with his teacher a couple of times for bringing little spiders and daddy long legs in from outside.

Steve arched a brow, but made no comment as he grabbed the wine on his way to the kitchen. As he walked, he checked out the camera placements. Much better. Now. Clint just needed a firm talking to.  It only took him a moment to find the glasses, filling two about half way and taking a sip. It wasn't hard for him to spot where the kitchen camera was hidden. Clint hadn't bothered hiding it. There was no real point anyway. Toni knew they were there, and really, she should be used to it from having them in the old house.

"It's called a Chilean Rose." He called, taking a slow sip of wine from his glass before leaving it on the counter to head toward Peter’s room. He couldn’t help the displeased expression that came over his features at the sight. It was so much smaller than what his boy had when he was little. If Toni wasn’t such a stubborn bitch, they could both be back in that house, living a life of luxury. "They're not very fast, so maybe you can take it out and hold it some time." He was talking to Peter, smiling a little as the boy peered through the glass case at the tarantula.

When Steve came into Peter's room, Toni's eyes snapped to him. He’d probably checked the camera placement, make sure Clint followed through on his orders. Depending on how tonight went, she was planning on asking that the camera, at least, be taken out of Peter's room. Then again, no amount of asking she’d done ever wielded results. The cameras in their old home had stayed, despite all of her protests about his men seeing them at...'intimate' moments or spying on Peter. Steve always laughed her concerns off.

"We just have to be careful of the hairs, make sure they don't get in your eyes," she said, smiling at Peter. She'd heard many stories from the bio labs about the barbed hairs of certain specimens and what they could do to a person, back at MIT.  "But it's a very nice gift, isn't it Peter? What do you say to Daddy?" Toni asked, straining to be polite and cheerful.

Peter looked up from where he was staring at the spider, grinning broadly at his father- wide, childish glee. "Thank you daddy! It's really cute!"

He nodded his head absently, that little smile still playing on his lips. "You're welcome, Peter." The boy didn't seem nearly as apprehensive now, which was the entire point of the present. Steve often wondered what Toni said to Peter about him when he wasn't around. If she knew what was good for her, they better be nice things, and continue to be. He wasn’t going to let the bitch ruin his relationship with his son.

The boy paused a minute, looking at the spider once again before grabbing his plant, holding it up for his father to see the sticker. "I got the prize for best show and tell today!" He told him excitedly.

Steve nodded. "I see, bud. And no wonder. I bet no other kids in your class could grow a plant." Peter was a clever kid. He had pretty good genes…if you ignored the addiction problems on both sides of the family tree.

Steve’s bright blue eyes framed by neatly trimmed dark brown hair that spoke of his mother’s Italian side, coupled with what was either Steve’s sickly nature or the Stark penchant for diminutive stature resulted in Peter being a rather cute kid. He was also incredibly bright; that was probably the Stark genes as well, since Steve’s parents were both junkies who never made it out of Brooklyn.

“No, he’s the only one, and he takes care of it all by himself too,” Toni added. She wanted Peter to see his parents agree on something, even if it was how just how great he was.

Back in the kitchen, a timer beeped. Steve watched Toni startle at the sound but he made no comment.

“Dinner’s ready, I’ll go plate it.” She made to leave, but Steve stopped her.

“Wait.”

Toni’s body language immediately changed. She’d been feigning relaxation before, but Steve knew what hypervigilance looked like. He’d seen it in her before, in the kids he picked up, and in the mirror nearly every day. It was what kept him alive, for all these years. It had been necessary for survival. Toni adapted the habit probably out of self-preservation. He smirked. At least she wasn’t getting rusty, being away a year…but the hidden gun and knife had told him as much.

So he had to play with her, just a little bit. Make sure she stayed on her toes.

Steve reached out and took her hand. His practically engulfed hers. “Spin.”

“What?” The look Toni gave him was priceless: confusion tinged with fear and slight annoyance…only a Stark could put that much emotion into their eyes.

“Let me see,” he explained with a nod to her dress. “Peter was so excited about his present I didn’t get a good look.” She had followed instructions, after all. The dress should be appreciated before it wound up on the floor of the bedroom.  

With obvious reluctance, Toni did as she was told. Steve missed the wink she gave their son, but he did see Peter smile. It would be nice for the boy to see his parents getting along. The present had gone a long way in earning his son’s approval. Playing nice with Toni could only help.

“I think you look beautiful. What do you think Pete?”

“Yeah! Mommy’s the prettiest!” the boy gushed, happy to hear his Daddy say something nice about her.       

“You boys are too kind,” Toni dismissed lightly before leaving the room.

Steve made sure Peter didn’t catch his smirk as he watched her go.

**6:15 PM**

“Anyone else stopping by?” Sam asked as he gathered everyone’s cards and began to shuffle.

Brock shrugged as he lit another cigarette. “All the guys I know are on the docks tonight.” Which really, spoke of just how low they were. The docks were the worst assignment. It was wet, cold, and miserable.

“Steve’s got Bruce taking care of a drug dealer on fifth.” Idiot thought he could slip into their territory. “So he’s out too. Sending a message,” Bucky clarified, in case Rumlow was too dumb to get it.

Rumlow barely resisted rolling his eyes.

Sam resisted a shudder. Sweet as he was, Bruce knew how to send a fucking message. He sent them loud and fucking clear. "Glad I'm on Steve's good side." He muttered as he cut the cards between his hands. “Natasha stopping by?”

“Probably, once she finishes shipments. Been at it all day. Damn kids are so slow.” Bucky flicked his eyes over to Brock as he said the words, waiting to see if he’d retort. When he didn’t, Bucky’s respect for him went up a bit. “What do you think of Barton, Brock?”

“I think he’s always early for patrol,” was the quick quip returned. After a glance at the other two, Brock added. “And he’s…on-edge. Jumpy.”

“Gotta thank Loki for that one. Bastard had him for a while.”

“Somethin’s different about him,” Bucky insisted as he looked over his new cards. “Steve and I were joking about Toni today—ya know, before he went to play house with the bitch, and he was getting all pissy.”

“His Daddy beat his Mama to death.”

Brock listened carefully, tucking away information as the two men continued to speak.

“Naw, that’s Banner,” Bucky corrected. “Clint’s Daddy hit ‘em, but he crashed them into a tree.”

“Barney used to be the same way, remember? Got a soft spot for women and kids.”

“Yeah I do. Fuckin’ bleeding heart for Stark and that little shit. Might’a been the only reason Steve saved his ass.”

After the stunt he pulled? Barney Barton was fucking lucky they had the best defense attorney in the damn state…and that the judges were all on Steve’s payroll. A few well-placed threats to jury members here, a bribe there…and the guy was looking at a minimum sentence with parole for murder. Course, it probably helped that he killed the guy while he was hurting his niece. All Barney had to do was break in, get the info, and get out. Instead he walked in on something he decided he couldn’t leave alone, and the next day the police caught him taking the brat out for ice cream.  

Bucky was certain that the only reason Toni was still alive today was because of Barney’s protection. Him and Clint were always the ones patching her up, or stopping Steve before he went too far. It was a damn shame.

“Nat likes her,” Barnes added, almost as an afterthought as he folded his hand.

“Nat’s a woman. No offense to her and all, but I think they’re generally softer. Don’t really belong in this business.” Sam thought women were just better people in general. His father was a minister. His mother had been a sweet, hard-working woman who did her best for the family.

If there was a God, and a Heaven, they must hate looking down to see the man their son had become.

“Don’t let her hear that. She’d probably castrate you.”

“That’s not the reason I’d want your girlfriend touching my balls, Barnes.”

“And what other reason would there be, Sam?”

It took everything in Brock’s might not to laugh at the look of absolute horror that briefly flashed on Sam’s face. Bucky didn’t refrain.

 _“He was only talking nonsense, darling.”_ Bucky stood and kissed Natasha’s cheek. _“Don't worry. Nothing he said was about you. I would tell you so you could take his balls off.”_  He added with a laugh. _“Are you heading home?”_

Natasha nodded and looked at the other two men in the small circle before replying. She knew Sam didn’t know Russian, but Rumlow was a wildcard. However, he didn’t seem to be paying them any mind, so she turned her attention back to Bucky. _“I should hope you will tell me. But yes, I was going to head home. Do you know when you’ll be finished? I’ll be waiting up.”_

_“I don’t, actually. I have to wait for Steve to text me.”_

_“Suit yourself, my sweet.”_ She punctuated the endearment with one last kiss. _“I’ll see you when you come back home.”_ There was something she needed to do before then. So James working late was not a terrible thing. It was probably nothing but…Natasha wanted to be absolutely certain. “Goodbye boys!” the redhead switched back to English as she waved at Sam and Brock.  

Sam waved back, but tried not to stare too long. He didn’t know much about Natasha. It seemed like the woman liked it that way. Aside from Bucky and Steve, and maybe Toni, no one really knew her. He was closer to Bucky and Steve in comparison. Steve was, and would always be, the man who gave him another chance when he didn’t have anything else. Bucky was Steve’s second in command, and so deserving of Sam’s respect. Plus, despite the work, he seemed like a good guy. They’d spent many nights on watch together, comparing scars; physical and non, shooting the shit.

Bucky was probably the closest thing to a friend Sam had. There was no sense of hero worship, as there was with Steve. There was no sense of owing the man something. There was just companionship; the knowledge that they had each other’s backs. It was a nice feeling.

“Tell us news from the front, Rumlow,” Bucky’s voice cut into Sam’s thoughts.

Brock looked between the two men for a moment before answering. “Boss told me to check out the apartment. I found a gun and a knife.”

Sam whistled low. “Glad I don’t have to deal with her, especially if she’s got a gun.”

Toni hadn’t been a violent woman. She hadn’t come close to the explosive temper her ex-husband possessed. Still—her abusive ex just bullied his way back into her life. Steve probably had nothing to worry about. He had Toni trained not to make a move against him, but Rumlow and Barton? If Toni snapped, they would probably be first in the line of fire. She may be a shrimpy little woman but a gun tended to level the playing field.

"Aside from that, just a lotta talk between her and the kid. Got a real feel for how the Captain treats them, you know?" He inhaled deeply before blowing out smoke. "She was promising that dinner or whatever tonight would be fine. And that he wouldn't hit her or nuthin'. How likely is that?" he asked. Brock asked the question in an offhand way, so he seemed casual, but he was really very curious.

“Not very,” was Bucky’s blunt but casual reply. It was good to know that Rumlow was picking up on so much without anyone holding his hand. He'd be a good asset. "But it'll all work out." It always did, between Toni and Steve. Well, Toni would do what Steve wanted, really, but that was just how one worked things out with Steven Rogers: by doing things his way and following his plans to the letter. Otherwise things were going to get bad.

“Captain keeps her in order,” Sam nodded in agreement.

One particular night, almost six years ago, it was Sam who found himself responsible for keeping Toni alive after one of Steve’s beatings. He honestly wasn’t even sure what she’d done, or if she’d done anything. All he knew was that Steve was under pressure from an encroaching gang, the brat just wouldn’t stop crying…well, someone had to bear the brunt of the Boss’ rage. Bruce was across town being questioned on something unrelated, and the Bartons were gone on a run. That left Sam. When he brought her into the hospital, Sam had to say he’d hit her with his car.

"That's one way to put it," Bucky agreed. Another was to say that Steve had a problem with control and had to control every single aspect of his life or he'd snap. Bucky had seen it a few times.

He thought of that same night Sam had to take her to the hospital. Even if Sam dropped her off, it wasn’t like the staff didn’t know who she was. She’d already been there a few times before. Hell, she’d given birth to the little monster in the same hospital. When he'd arrived hours later to check on her, he found ungreased pigs in her room, asking her question after question. She just kept saying that she didn't remember, and that she'd been told she was hit by a car. Toni wasn't just book smart, after all. She knew how to survive as Steve Roger's wife. When Bucky finally entered the room, the cops glared at him before leaving. One thought he was sneaky and slipped Toni his card, but the woman just ripped it up as soon as they left. 'Good girl,' he'd commented at the time.

Toni didn't speak to him the rest of the night. She only broke the silence to ask who was looking after the baby. Once Bucky told her it was Natasha, she visibly relaxed.

"Another way is that she's just a human stress ball," he laughed at his own terrible joke. “I don’t even know why he fuckin’ married her.” Which was...OK, partially a lie. Toni was gorgeous, in her own right. He’d be blind not to see it. Dragging her to the altar with what was literally a shotgun wedding...it’d been about more than having a pretty wife on his arm. Steve was hoping to control Howard Stark as well. Not many knew about the debt the old bastard had.  

“I dunno man...trophy wife, probably,” Sam suggested. He agreed with Bucky unknowingly; Toni Stark was a beautiful woman. A little smaller than Sam personally liked, but that made her perfect for Cap to throw her around.

"Steve's my best friend, man, but God, that kid...little snot-nosed brat. Don't even know why he knocked the bitch up." They'd all been surprised, when Steve told them he and Toni were trying for a baby. There were the usual lewd jokes, congratulations, and the like. No one ever took Steve for a family man, and they had been right. Even if he liked to play house sometimes, Steve couldn't help coming back to the business. It was what he was good at.

Rumlow had no qualms about killing women. He had no problem eliminating a target, no matter what it was...however, he couldn't help but feel a bit bad for the petite women he'd watched today. It would hurt if Steve decided to use him as a punching bag, he couldn't imagine the pain she'd gone through and would continue to go through. "Only other news is that there's now a mic in every room and more cams," he shrugged as he stared at his hand.

“I knew about that,” Bucky replied. “Steve laid into Clint earlier about the lack of equipment.”

“Seems like a fucking waste to me. They can’t be that interesting,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Clint’s watching them now,” Rumlow chimed in.

“He won’t be for long. When Cap shows up, Clint is gonna be taking a drive around the block. Cap prefers his eyes to be the last ones seeing it,” Sam corrected as he finally showed his hand.

Not that Steve had a problem with beating his wife in front of his men. Sam thought he did it on purpose, as a sort of power move. If he was willing to do that to his wife, there was no telling what he’d do to any of those boys should they cross him. Besides the obvious intimidation factor, there was also a more twisted, psychological one. A lot of guys in this line of work watched their daddy beat the shit out of mommy growing up. Drawing up those old memories and making connections to their pasts terrified them.

Recruiting the young and desperate had taught Steve things. He took in the addicts, the insecure, the damaged—he took scared kids and put a gun in their hands, told them they were a man for it. Told them killing was the only way to a better life.

And by the time they got to Steve? They were willing to believe it. Steve didn’t have to make his own soldier. He didn’t have to break a man down and remake them. The world made his soldiers. All he had to do was mold them to his liking. Give them a gun and tell them where to point the barrel.

"And nobody ever says nothin'? What about the civilians she sees everyday now? Wouldn't they get suspicious?" Rumlow questioned, breaking through Sam’s thoughts.

Bucky shook his head. "Toni got real good at covering up everything. Think her Mama taught her from firsthand experience with her Daddy...anyway, she knows that if she draws suspicion or opens her mouth, Steve ain't happy. And when Steve's not happy..." he let the sentence hang, because it was obvious what would happen.

Sam nodded and dealt a new round. "She can't go to the cops- and she knows if any of her 'work friend's' do... They're going to be in deep."

In his opinion, Toni had learned her lesson after what Steve did to that beat cop Rhodes.

"Captain might have you watching that diner she's at, eventually- depends on whether or not he's gonna get someone else watching the house. Barton's gotta sleep sometime."

"The guy doesn't seem to, from what little I have seen of him," Rumlow replied. "Don't think I've ever seen Barton blink, to be perfectly honest." It was only half a joke. Clint had a very intense stare that seemed unbreakable. At the mention of the diner, he let out a low whistle. "From the wife of a mob boss to a waitress? Pretty far to fall." Toni hadn't seemed very disturbed about her new life. From what Brock could tell, she had been enjoying it a lot.

Bucky nodded. "She didn't know how good she had it. Now she's gotta scrape every cent together," he replied in agreement.

Sam chuckled. “She went to fucking MIT, didn't she? Imagine that high and mighty bitch scrubbing your table." Though in all honesty, none of them saw her as all too high or mighty. Steve made her dress like a slut. And that's how they saw her. He knocked her around, so she didn’t seem like much of a threat. She was nothing but arm candy…or at her lowest, a human stress ball.

Bucky nodded, "Yeah, she was a kid when she started too." There was no doubt that Toni was a genius. Hell, she'd escaped once while pregnant by fucking up their security system. He never understood why Steve didn't utilize her more. Too much goddamn trouble, probably.

Sam snorted. Toni may have been a genius, but she didn’t stand a chance against Cap’s plan. "Some people... Poor bitch lost her shot when daddy went under." He smirked a little. “That embezzling scam he pulled that put Howard under? Now that’s true genius."  The fact that they'd taken down the weapons tycoon made Steve the kingpin of the biggest criminal syndicate on the east coast- men flocked to him for work, all hoping to get rich off of the tidal wave of business that came in without Howard vacuuming the industry... Howard had been forced to sell out everything to pay off the debt; his weapons, his structure, and ultimately his daughter.  

Rumlow quirked a brow but said nothing. He had only known that Howard Stark went under, he hadn't know that Steve was responsible for it. Then again, it did make sense. Steve always had everything planned, and getting to Toni had to have taken some time. "All that over some business and a girl?" He asked, playing dumb to milk more information.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "He had Howard Stark in his pocket, that was what he gained. Then the asshole got himself killed. I still think he did it on purpose." He could remember hearing the news and watching Toni's face. She'd hardly flinched. Howard Stark was no father to her.

"Probably did.” It made the most sense after all, when all the evidence was weighed. “ I mean, his wife was dead. His daughter hated him, his company was destroyed…what else is left other than finding out if there’s a God?” Everyone who knew anything about Howard Stark knew him to be an atheist, and if that was the case, then it made the case lean more toward suicide in Sam’s humble opinion. Maybe the old man wanted some damned peace and quiet.

No one who believed in God, and did the kind of shit they did, wanted to die any time soon. Hell was a terrifying prospect.

"He was a sorry old man," Bucky replied. "If he was my father, and he whored me out, I would hate him too. Can't blame Toni for that one." They all have their separate parental issues. It was always best that they didn't talk about it. "He should have stuck around a little longer, coulda made some great things..." Part of Bucky always wondered if Toni had the same inclinations toward weaponry as her father. She would have been a good asset, had she not been such a whore for Steve and a bitch on top of it. ‘Sides...couldn’t have her getting any ideas anyway.

"It's a shame, really. Guy was brilliant with tech. He designed that gun in your holster. Would have been useful having him around a while longer." Knowing what kind of man Howard had been—an abusive drunk—Sam wondered idly if he’d care about what Steve was obviously putting his daughter and grandson through. Sam was willing to bet cash he wouldn’t have done a damn thing.

Brock looked at his gun with a surprised gaze. One of the perks to joining Steve had been better weapons. He didn't know they were designed by Stark though. They were the best in the business. Pierce always wanted to get his hands on some. "Impressive. Didn't know these were from Stark. Toni ever make anything?"

"Naw, bitch was always to busy spreading her legs to ever do anything _that_ productive." Sam snorted, shaking his head. "Lotta the time I don’t think women are cut out for this work--excluding Nat, obviously,” he added with a nod to Bucky. God knew she was more than capable. Didn’t need anyone protecting her.  

Brock thought about the woman he watched. She didn’t seem like anything but a devoted mother and hard worker. She never had any men over, hardly had any visitors aside from those people from the diner. Her kid seemed to have more friends than her.

“You got anyone special Brock? A whore you favor? Maybe a nice neighbor who doesn’t know what kinda work you do?” Bucky questioned.

“Nah. One night stands are enough for me. Any more than that and they get to talkin’.”

Sam burst into laughter and slapped the young man on the back. “Amen to that. It’s better for most of us to keep the sex casual. We can’t all be lovebirds like those two.”

“Yer just jealous,” Bucky retorted.

Rumlow was glad that Barnes and Sam seemed to like him a little, or at least, tolerate him. He wanted to move up from where he was now, but he wasn't exactly lusting after the head position. Rumlow was a simple guy, who liked simple jobs and simple orders. He took orders a lot better than he could give 'em. He just didn't want to be quite so low on the ladder.

“Speaking of jealousy…” Sam threw down his hand: a full run. “Read ‘em and weep, boys. Ya’ll better be glad we’re not playing for real money.”

The other two men grumbled and tossed their cards. Sam gleefully collected them and reshuffled.    

The tattooed man checked his watch. “Anyone wanna actually bet some money?”

“What are you thinking?” Brock asked, interest piqued.

“I’ll bet Steve stays over tonight.”

Sam snorted. “How are you gonna go home to Natasha if he stays the night? I’ll take that bet and your money.” He started to shuffle the cards, bridging them again and again. “Maybe he fucks her--”

“Definitely fucks her,” Bucky cut in.

“I’ll give you that,” Sam agreed. “But there’s no way he’s sleeping over. Captain ain’t the snuggly type.”

“It ain’t about the ‘snuggling’ as you so adorably put it,” was Bucky’s retort. “It’s about sticking it to Toni and fucking with her after he’s fucked her. Besides, if the brat sees that he stayed the night, he’ll think Mommy and Daddy are getting along.” That kid was so goddamn important to Steve. Maybe Bucky would understand it more if he had his own kid...or if Peter wasn’t so fucking annoying.

“Call it what you want man, it’s snuggling in my book. Even if it’s just to fuck with her--it’ll get inside Cap’s head too.” Physical intimacy lead to emotional intimacy. He had a hard time picturing the Captain wanting that...then again, maybe that was why he married Toni. Maybe he wanted someone to get under the mask. The problem with that was that Steve was like one of those Russian Nesting Dolls; calm, cool collection on top of violence on top of crazy on top of...well, Sam wasn’t really sure. Perhaps that man who’d found him in the parking lot, though even that had seemed carefully crafted. Maybe the old Steve Rogers Bucky sometimes talked about. Maybe that was the bit that actually liked Toni Stark.

Tha Captain didn’t seem to have any use for her other than procreation and stress relief.

“Nothin’ gets inside Steve’s head that he doesn’t want,” Bucky retorted...though part of him wasn’t really sure. He always seemed to get stuck on Toni fucking Stark. That little bitch ruined everything. Before her, Steve wasn’t...he wasn’t always like this. He didn’t hurt kids. Then she comes along, and her fucking liar Father, and now…

Well, none of them were good people. To Bucky it seemed as though the years had twisted his best friend. Sometimes, Steve was unrecognizable.

But they’d promised: ‘Til the end of the line.

“Cap may be big time, but he’s still human, same as the rest’ve us,” Sam returned with a roll of his eyes. Though, some of the rumors that went around with the younger members may suggest otherwise. “And anyway, how do you plan on getting off tonight if Steve stays over? Thought you were leaving when he came back?”

“Wait ‘til he gets off,” Bucky smirked. Give him an hour, then text him. There’s no action here to”He really do thatnight, and I got my lady waiting on me.” He checked his watch. “He’s probably busy right now, anyway.” What was the brat’s bedtime anyway? He doubted Steve would wait any longer than he had to.

“Busy,” Sam echoed as he scraped his cigarette ash on the ground. Part of him felt bad for Toni. Sam hadn’t been in the house as often as some of the others...but he’d seen enough to know that Toni wasn’t always a willing participant. He could remember the look in her eyes when Steve pulled her close, that brief moment of frozen terror and sheer panic before she played along, did her part. He’d seen that look in soldiers many times over. Hell...that was the last look he’d seen on Riley’s face. But it was Steve. Sam doubted Toni’s feelings ever really played a roll in their marriage. “Cap better be careful she doesn’t scream and bother the neighbors--thin walls in the kind of apartment a waitress affords.”

"Steve always knew how to shut her up. Besides, she's not gonna wake up the kid," Bucky replied. Maybe some small part of him did feel bad for Toni...but she deserved it. She had to. Steve hadn’t been this bad before her, so it was her fault. Whatever she did, whatever she brought out in his best friend...that was on her. And to top it off her and her fucking brat were the worst. She’d do anything to protect Peter. They all knew that. She’d proven that time and time again. Steve used that to his advantage.

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” Sam agreed as he finally began dealing another round. “Still, you never know. She could get an idea.” It was morbid to talk about, but one could argue their entire lives revolved around morbidity now.

“If she knows what’s good for her, she won’t,” Bucky said simply as he picked up his new hand.

“He really do that?” Brock asked, breaking back into the conversation. “Cap really...rape her?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s not rape if you like it.” But he didn’t really believe that...did he? Sam would never say that about anyone else. The Captain was just...Steve was Steve. He was in charge. They all knew him. He wasn’t that bad a guy, considering everything. Toni was just a bitch. It was her  and her goddamn kid. She always made the Captain so damn angry--she was just easier to blame. All of them blamed her, instead of acknowledging the fact that they followed, and were even friends with, a guy who beat and raped his wife.

“And she likes it?’ Brock asked dully, keeping any inflection from his tone. That...didn’t sit well with him. Growing up, the system had been full of messed up kids who suffered all kinds of things. Rape was...well, some managed to live, but not survive. At a glance, Toni Stark didn’t look like much, but with this new information Brock knew there was something more to her. At least the gun and knife made a lot more sense.

“Course she does. Bitch loves a big cock,” Sam said, his tone now clipped as he needlessly rearranged his cards. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Toni was a bitch, her kid was trouble, that was that. Sam was starting to remember that he’d started the night not liking Rumlow. Kid was making him think too much about things that weren’t his damn business.

“Enough of this shit,” Bucky cut in. he blew out one last breath of smoke before tossing his cig. “I hear enough about that little slut from Steve. I don’t wanna spend all night talkin’ about her now.”

Rumlow nodded, and without another word, picked up his cards.

**7:30 PM**

Dinner was a slow, and nearly painful affair. Toni did everything she could not to rouse Steve’s anger, while Peter seemed almost oblivious to the tension between his parents. The little boy babbled on about school. Steve asked questions, which Peter happily answered. Every now and then, between bites, Steve would take a sip from his glass. Toni hadn’t touched hers. She hadn’t expected Steve to pour her one, after his drunk comment...but then again, it seemed like just the kind of game he’d play. Toni hadn’t been in the middle of his games for almost a year. She was getting rusty.

But now...right now, she felt as though she had passed some test. There was no talk of work, no mention of the diner or the friends she’d made there. Steve had made it very clear just what he thought of that. There was no need to piss him off. So Toni played the part of a near-silent wife and dutiful mother. The only times she opened her mouth were to eat or gently prod Peter into saying more. If Peter filled the space, Toni wouldn’t have to. Peter was less likely to frustrate Steve anyway, so it was a win-win for everyone.

As she cleared the dishes, Toni was starting to think that maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad. Steve could help give Peter a bath, read him a story, and then...and then. Well. There was no telling just what sort of mood he was in tonight. After all, he was still wearing the mask of a caring father.

“You’ve made better,” Steve commented idly as he sipped his wine, leaning back in his chair. “But it smelled good.”

There was only the briefest of pauses in Toni’s movements to show that she’d heard, then she resumed rinsing the plates.

Peter looked up at his father with a frown of confusion and what could be frustration twisting his young face. “Well, _I_ liked it Mommy,” he said, with the slightest bit of defiance that only a child could get away with.

Toni knew she shouldn't be bothered by Steve's comment. That's all it was; a petty cut, something to hurt her. It was only words. Then Peter piped up, and maybe she shouldn’t have, but she turned to smile at him over her shoulder. Though the warm swell of love she felt in her chest battled with the cold sickness roiling in her stomach. "You only like it so much because you helped make it," she teased as she approached the table again. She had meant to tell Steve that at the beginning, but now she was afraid it would sound like she was blaming Peter. Another pause, and then Toni was putting herself between Steve and Peter on instinct. Toni chewed the inside of her lip fearfully for a moment, knowing that it was a risk to turn her back on her ex-husband. But Peter came first. Peter would always come first. She crouched to her son’s level. "I like it too, Peter, but Daddy didn't say that it wasn't good," she reminded gently.       

"That's what he meant, though." Peter’s frown deepened as he looked at his mother. "Like when you say 'we'll see' but really you mean 'no'." Adults were always using different words than what they meant- Peter didn't understand why they didn't just come out and _say_ what they were thinking.

"You think so, Peter?" Steve asked. His motions were deliberate as he leaned toward his son and placed his wine glass down. "And why do you think I would say that? If I didn't mean exactly what I said?"

Peter turned his head to look at his father, shrinking back a little. "Because you like being mean to mommy."

Toni felt her breath catch in her throat at Peter's words. She had no idea what to say to that, because she didn't say things of that nature to Peter. It was the boy's own observations from watching them interact. It had come from years of watching Steve yell at her and hit her. Peter was a child, and though he was more mature than his age, he didn't have a filter when it came to telling the truth. From the mouth of babes...

"Peter..." she said quietly, hoping he would be able to understand that he should be quiet. One glance at her ex told her everything. Toni knew that look on Steve's face, and though he seemed untroubled and even a bit amused, she could see the anger behind those baby blue eyes.

"Daddy...Daddy wasn't trying to be mean," Toni lied, hoping that would appease Steve.

"Yes he was!" Peter argued. "He's always being mean to you!"

A slow smile spread across Steve’s lips. It wasn’t a kind smile. It wasn’t nice, or welcoming, or even an attempt at pretending to be either. It wasn’t a look that should ever be directed at a child. He clasped his hands together and leaned closer to his family. “And you don’t like it when I’m mean to your Mommy, Peter?”

It was a trap. It was always a trap. That smile never accompanied anything good. Toni knew that from experience.  

"No..." Peter murmured as he shrunk away. His eyes lowered to stare at his hands in his lap. He hated when his Daddy was mean to Mommy. Hated when he hurt her. Hated hearing her cry.

“Peter, please--” She tried to placate Peter again, but Steve cut her off. She wished her little boy would possess wisdom beyond his years and just _be quiet._ She didn’t want to do this tonight. Toni didn’t have the energy to fight and beg Steve.  

"And what are you going to do about it?" He asked, head cocked to the side.

In a second his hand was shooting out, fingers knotting in Toni’s hair and yanking her _hard_ up onto her feet and toward him as he stood. The leftover glasses and silverware rattled on the table as she was yanked toward her ex-husband.

Toni couldn’t stop the pained cry that burst from her lips. Her eyes flashed to the wine bottle for a brief moment, but she knew fighting would only make things worse. There was no guarantee that Peter wouldn’t be hurt as well.   

"If slam her fucking head onto the table right now, what would you do about it?" Steve’s voice was incredibly steady, and that damn smile never left his face.

The boy’s eyes widened, horror and fear flashing across his face. "Daddy no!" There were tears forming in his eyes. "Don't hurt mommy!" he scrambled off his chair, standing in front of his parents.  

Steve was cursing at her son, threatening horrible things and asking what he was going to do about it. Toni clenched his eyes shut and tried to slow her breathing, tried to focus on not panicking--not yet, not until Peter was gone.  

"Peter," she said, her voice low and trembling as she was held in Steve's grip. "Go to your room." Her son didn't need to see what would happen next, didn't need to get himself hurt trying to prevent it. She could handle it alone, as she had before. Peter just needed to leave.

"Stay," Steve ordered sharply. "You stay right here, Peter, and you tell me, what are you going to do?"

“Steve please, not in front of him,” Toni whispered her plea, only to have it ignored. She felt sick, and there was nothing she could do now.

His free hand moved, arm a blur as a big forearm wrapped around Toni’s throat, pulling her flush against him. "What would you do it I started choking your mother to death?" The muscles of his arm flexed, and suddenly, Toni couldn’t breathe. "How long do you think she can live without air, Peter? Two minutes? Three? What the _fuck_ are you going to do about it?"

"Stop!" Peter was crying, tears running down his face. "Daddy stop! Stop it!"

Toni watched in horror as her baby screamed and cried. She attempted to kick out, to loosen Steve’s grip, but her damn heels combined with the linoleum gave no traction. Steve was talking about killing her. It wasn’t fair. She’d played by his rules. She’d done everything he’d asked so far. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t kill her in front of their son. Not while he was practically taunting the boy, telling him to do something about it. This...This was a lesson, but it was one Toni never wanted Peter to learn.

"Not good enough." Steve replied calmly. "People don't stop because you tell them to, Peter." His arm only tightened on Toni's throat. Surely, it would bruise, and he knew she couldn’t breathe...but it wasn’t like Toni was big enough to stop him. " _Make_ me stop. What can you do? I'm bigger than you, Peter. I'm your father. What in God’s name can you do?"

"Stop!" Peter sobbed, stepping forward and hitting his father, beating his fists against the man uselessly. It didn’t do anything. He was small for his age. Small and weak and no match for a full-grown man, let alone one of his father’s size. Peter kept hitting anyway. "Stop it!"

Panic seized Toni’s body as she watched Peter hit Steve. It was useless, but the little boy wasn’t stopping his attack. He was going to get hurt. Worse, she was going to die and Steve was going to take him back to that house.

"Not good enough." Steve growled. Toni's face had to be turning blue by now, but he wouldn’t bother to check. "You'll have to do better than--"

Peter's little hand wrapped around the neck of Steve's abandoned wine glass. Crimson splashed everywhere; all over Toni’s hair, Peter’s good sweater, and Steve. The red liquor mixed with the blood now sliding down Steve’s face from the glass shattering against his skin. He was lucky to have seen it in time to close his eyes. Blood dripped from Peter’s hand, where a piece of the broken stem had cut him.

Steve let go of Toni.

She fell right into the glass shards, gasping for air and paying no mind to the fact that some of the glass pieces ended up in her palms and knees. After a few labored breaths, she looked up and saw Peter's cut. Forgetting about her own injuries and the fire in her throat, Toni crawled toward her little boy and kneeled in front of him.

"Baby, sweetie, are you alright?" she asked, her frantic gaze taking everything in. It was only a small cut, and she was relieved that he wouldn't need stitches.

Without regard to her own injuries, Toni pulled her son into a careful hug. "Shh, shh, it's OK Peter. It's alright. I'm OK," she soothed as he sobbed into her shoulder. She wasn't, and neither was he, but she had to calm him down. Peter came first. Peter always came first. Toni was so focused on Peter that she didn't even look at Steve. She didn't even give him a glance. Right now, her baby needed her.   

Steve, meanwhile, mechanically reached up to wipe the blood from his eyes. There were a good number of cuts on his face...the one that split his cheek would most likely need stitches, but he’d had worse. He turned his back on his sobbing son and ex-wife slowly, heading toward the sink to wash his hands. He could still hear Peter crying, even as he turned the tap on.

The boy was too young to realize that what he did was _exactly_ the kind of thing Steve wanted him to do.

Peter was small. With any luck he’d grow up and take after the Starks in stature. Steve wasn’t going to let that be the reason he was walked all over. His son was going to be strong. If he was going to demand something, he would have to back it up. He’d have to _make_ what he wanted happen.

Just like Steve had, and did.

He heard Toni whispering, and then the sounds of movement, footsteps leading out of the kitchen and toward the hall. He could hear Toni soothing their boy the entire time. Looking up, he came face-to-face with his own reflection in the cheap chrome of the microwave. Using that as a mirror, he began to pick the glass from his face. He looked a mess as well, from the wine. The tie would have to go, so would the shirt, but he’d have to wear it when he left so it couldn’t throw it away just yet...his poor mother would be rolling over in her grave, if she knew he just threw away clothes now.

...And maybe, she’d be rolling for a few other reasons as well.

Left in his seemingly appropriately named wife-beater, he leaned against the counter and decided to give his family a few minutes alone.

**7:40 PM**

Toni set Peter on the toilet before once again crouching down to his level. She’d almost forgotten how different it was in heels. “Peter, I-I…” she stopped and cleared her throat, trying to make her voice stronger. “I need to fix my hands, OK? And then I’ll help you with yours.” Straightening, she grabbed a washcloth and wet it before gently pressing it to her son’s hand. “You hold that right there for Mommy, OK?”

Peter nodded through his tears. He sniffled as he tried so very, very hard to stop crying. His cut didn’t hurt that bad. His Mommy was hurt worse. The boy could see she was hurt worse. He wasn’t the one that should be crying. He knew it only made his Mommy even more upset. But still, he couldn’t stop.

“M’sorry, Mommy,” Peter sobbed.

Toni looked up from picking glass out of her hand with tweezers and shook her head. “Baby, this is not your fault.” She said the words firmly, looking directly into her son’s eyes. “It’s not your fault Petey. Daddy just gets mad sometimes, and there’s nothing we can do about it, OK?” She finished with her hands and rinsed them of blood before approaching her son again. Toni gently held his little face between her hands. “I love you, Peter. I love you more than anything in the whole world,” she whispered before kissing his forehead. And it killed her, to see him like this, because she’d been right where he was...but Toni would be damned if she let her son blame himself like she used to. It wasn’t his job to protect her. It was supposed to be the other way around.

Too bad she was doing such a shit job of it.

“But _why_ does he get mad?” Peter asked in a watery voice. “Why...Why doesn’t he love us?” And it wasn’t fair, because his friend Gwen’s parents were nice to each other. Her Daddy didn’t hurt her Mommy. Even Harry’s Dad loved him, and he wasn’t around all the time. Why couldn’t his Daddy be nice? Why couldn’t he be like other Daddies?

Toni felt her heart breaking. Peter was too young to understand that his father was twisted enough to think that teaching him such a terrible lesson was love. Steve wanted Peter to be like him, to become the perfect heir to the criminal empire he built. Toni was desperate enough to do anything she could to prevent that from happening. As her little boy cried in her arms, she held him tightly. "I don't know, Peter. I don't know," was the only answer she could give.

When they parted, she set to cleaning Peter’s cut. It wasn’t as bad as the blood would have suggested, and even though Peter usually delighted in picking out his Band-Aids, he said nothing as Toni placed a Batman and Robin bandage over the cut.

The young mother pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. “Dynamic Duo, just like you an’ me.” Her smile was gentle and slightly hesitant.

And in spite of everything, Peter smiled back.

**7:45 PM**

Steve stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Peter was wiping his nose with a tissue while Toni was sitting on the sink counter, picking glass from her knee. It was her own damn fault for being so careless. When he appeared, they both looked up. Twin looks of fear and wariness flashed in their eyes.

“Did Mommy fix your cut, Peter?” he addressed his son, ignoring Toni for now.

The little boy nodded and held up his hand.

Steve hummed. “Is Batman your favorite?”

Again, another small nod.

A weak voice he’d know anywhere intervened. “It’s getting late. Peter has school tomorrow. He still needs a bath. Let me finish up here and then we can...talk, in the living room.”

He much preferred this tone of hers to the others; hesitant and asking for permission. Of course, since she said it so nicely, he gave it.

“How about I start his bath, and you finish taking care of that knee? Don’t wanna ruin your lovely dress. Best clean that up first.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Toni knew as much, and so she hopped off the counter and looked at their son again. “I’ll be right back, OK? I’m only going to the living room,” she promised with a kiss to his head.

Peter didn’t want her to go, but he nodded anyway. He bit down on his lip to stop it from quivering. He knew Mommy had to listen to Daddy, or bad things would happen. Mommy had already been hurt enough.

Steve watched her go, pleased when she edged around him to go out the door.

“Let’s run the water, Peter,” Steve said cheerfully, once they were alone. He turned the tap, and then approached the boy to help him undress. “We’ll have to get you a new sweater, huh?” The wine had pretty much ruined it. “I’ll leave some money with Mommy, so she can get you a new one, how’s that sound?”

Peter nodded again, eyes lowered to the floor. “OK.”

“Do you know what you’re going to name your spider yet?” Steve pressed as he helped Peter with his shoes. Once they were done, Steve let the boy dump as much bubble bath in it as he wanted. He could spoil the kid a little. He’d done so well, after all.

“No.”

Steve reached out, and he frowned when the boy flinched away. “Gotta wash your hair, Pete.”

“Mommy does it.”

“Mommy’s fixing her knees right now buddy. Let me--”

“How are we doing in here, boys?” Toni asked from the doorway.

When Steve turned to look at her, she got the feeling she was interrupting...something. Though what, she wasn’t sure. Steve would most likely let her know later, and make her pay for it.

“Fine,” the man said instead. “Peter’s not sure about a name for his new pet yet.”

Toni forced a smile as she walked in. She kneeled beside the tub and gently stroked Peter’s hair. “Oh? I’m sure we’ll think of something.” She gave him a little wink before reaching for the shampoo.

This time, Peter let his mother wash his hair. His eyes would flit toward his father every few minutes. He’d never seen him like this before. His Daddy always had suits on, or those nice shirts with a vest. He always looked like one of those guys who worked in the tall buildings in the city. Seeing his father now, in a white tank top, with cuts all over his face...he looked scary.

Toni had seen Steve in this state before. In her opinion, it was a truer picture of who Steve Rogers really was. He looked like a gangster from the old movies. When he got to this state, it was usually after something went wrong with the business and he was using her to relieve stress; whether that was sex or another beating. There were other times, when things went catastrophically wrong, when they lost someone, that he would be stripped of all the trappings of a successful man. He’d sit in the kitchen, or on their bed. On those nights he didn’t want anything from her. Sometimes Steve didn’t even speak. He’d just pulled Toni onto his lap and hold her. Those times, Toni could almost believe there was something vulnerable, buried deep, deep down inside Steve Rogers. Once, when they weren’t sure if Bucky would make it, she’s pretty sure he cried, but neither of them commented on it.

But this wasn’t one of those nights. The shine to Steve’s eyes had nothing to do with tears, and everything to do with what she suspected would happen after Peter went to bed.

When Peter was finished, Toni helped him out of the bath and dried him off. “How about you go get dressed in you PJs, and then brush your teeth? When you’re done I’ll tuck you in.”

Peter nodded, kissed his mother’s cheek, and then went off. Usually he’d ask if they could watch TV for a little bit, but tonight he just wanted his Daddy to leave. Maybe if he went to bed, Daddy would go. He wouldn’t have a reason to stay, right?

No words were exchanged between the parents, but they both somehow ended up in the kitchen. Toni went to the sink to resume cleaning the dishes, as a means of distraction.

Steve followed right behind. He pressed against her, arms wrapping around her waist as his lips found her shoulder, right near the line of discoloration that would encircle her neck and give way to bruising.

“What have you been saying to my boy?” he murmured.  

Toni forced away a shudder of fear. “Nothing.”

Teeth scraped her already sensitive skin. Strike one.

“I told him about the cameras and mics, just like I did at the ol--before.” No need to remind him of the old house. The house he still lived in. “But the rest...I don’t have to tell him anything, because he remembers. He’s not a baby. He knows,” and she cut it short there, because the only accurate way to finish that statement was _he knows you hurt me_ , and there was no way Steve would stand for that. “When you do things like...like tonight. I can’t change his mind. Nothing I say will change what he sees. He’s afraid.”

Steve didn’t like that answer, he didn’t like it at all. One hand reached up, big, strong fingers digging into the back of her neck.  Toni stifled the pained whimper the grip elicited. She could feel the callouses in the crook of his index finger from pulling a trigger, the rough pads of his thumb and index finger from holding a pencil in his art school days. Artist’s hands and killer’s hands were both amazingly steady. It was essential to their craft.

“Fear is healthy,” Steve mumbled as he continued to press kisses onto her skin. Each one made Toni want to flinch. “I’m his father. Not his friend. It’s my duty to teach him how to be a man. If you had it your way, he’d grow up and be a pussy.” It could have been funny, hearing such a word spoken so seriously, if not for the situation. “You don’t agree with me?”

A loaded question, as if there were any other kind with Steve.

“I want him to be happy,” Toni whispered. She shifted on her feet in an attempt to get some space between them. It was a pointless effort. “I want him to be strong...same as you do.” He’d need to be, if he was going to survive his childhood. She just didn’t agree with Steve’s methods, with his vision for their baby. “Fear in small amounts is good, more breeds resentment.”

“I’d rather he resent me,” Steve began as he trailed a line of kisses up her neck. He placed a kiss behind her ear. “I’d rather him _hate_ me, than be dead at nineteen if something happens to me and someone decides to clean house.” The last part was whispered directly into Toni’s ear, and this time she did flinch. Steve may trust his men now, but if he was gone? Toni knew none of them would be loyal to her or Peter. Bucky, she was sure, would attempt to take her son out.

“He’s a little boy Steve, give him time,” Toni mumbled as she turned her head away from him. “If you want him to...to love and respect you, this isn’t the way.” Some part of Steve still had to want a relationship with his boy, right? Even if he valued Peter’s supposed guaranteed survival over everything else.

She could feel Steve grin against her skin. He was probably admiring his handiwork. Sick fuck. He tucked his face into her neck, and Toni forced her tears back. She knew well enough where this night would lead. The question was how, or if, she’d used it to her advantage.

“I don’t need you telling me how to raise my son,” Steve retorted, almost cheerfully as he lifted his head to look at her face. “But fine. I’ll play it your way. I’ll pick him up from school one day this week. Take him to the park or something. But don’t you think, for one second, that this is your game, sweetheart.”

“Raising a child shouldn’t be a game, Steve.” her voice was soft. “Not everything is about work.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. He actually sounded disappointed when he said, “You still don’t understand, Toni.” His hand began sliding down the front of her dress, sliding along her stomach. “This whole thing is a game. You either win, or you lose, and I’m not gonna let my son be a loser because you don’t understand that _everything_ is business.”

She knew where that hand was going. Knew what Steve wanted.

And even if it was stupid, Toni took a breath to steel herself before grabbing Steve’s hand. “I have to put Peter to bed.” She mentioned Peter, remind him that there were still little eyes to see and little ears to hear what he would do. Even Steve had a limit to what he wanted their son to see. Even if it was only a few minutes, Toni needed space to think, to _breathe_.  

With a huff of annoyance, Steve let her go. He turned to lean against the counter with his arms crossed. “You really thought you could escape this?” _Escape me?_ “You can hide out here all you want, Toni, but Peter’s not a civilian. Neither are you. You don’t have the luxury of pretending it is, because it’s not.” He’d built all this with the idea of passing it on to someone. He did these things so his son could have a better life than Steve ever had, than any of these kids ever had. Toni was taking that away from him.

"I just want him safe, Steve," Toni replied tiredly. "I don't want him growing up like I did." And she didn’t need to elaborate, she knew, because everyone knew what kind of man Howard Stark was. "I know you're...you want what's best for him, too, but..." She tried to think of a way to word it carefully. "I think the only way to really protect him is to try and keep him out of it." And Steve was going to be pissed, but at least she could put Peter to bed done wouldn't see the result of her words. "And you don't, and I get it, OK? I'll...play by your rules. Follow everything to the letter."

With that, she walked off to find her son. It's only be a few minutes of reprieve, but it was better than nothing.  

Toni knew Steve would be waiting for her when she came back.     

Strike two.   

**8:00 PM**

Peter was peeking out of the bathroom when she found him. “Is Daddy gone?” he asked, turning wide blue eyes up to his mother.

Toni shook her head and picked him up. “No. Daddy’s still here, but I’m gonna tuck you into bed, OK?” As they stepped into the boy’s room, she gently placed him on the bed.

Peter didn’t look happy at the news. “He’ll go soon?” he pressed as his mother pulled the blankets up and helped him lay down. He gave his mother a look...one that told her that if he heard anything, or even thought he did, Peter would get up, even if there was nothing he could do about it. Peter used to always get up when he heard something, even before he was old enough to get out of bed himself. As a baby he would stand in his crib and wait for his mother to come. Sometimes, he’d cry, hoping it would bring her sooner. After a while, even he figured out crying was useless. Most kids gave up on it.

“I don’t know baby,” Toni replied as she finished tucking him in. “I don’t know how late he’s going to stay.” She hated what she was about to do, but she had to protect Peter at all costs. “Will you promise me that you won’t come out of your room, no matter what?” She gently stroked Peter’s hair back. “Daddy...Daddy’s not gonna hurt me like he did earlier.” Technically not a lie. Probably. “We just...we’re going to talk about grown-up things. Things you shouldn’t hear, OK?”

Peter didn’t look like he believed her. He didn’t trust his Daddy not to hurt her again. The boy nodded anyway, to keep his mother happy. He knew she would get upset if his father hurt her again, and he saw...but he was scared. Peter just wanted his Dad to go away again. Him and Mommy were happy before. She couldn’t be happy with him around. He knew that.

Gwen’s daddy was a police officer. They were supposed to protect people. Maybe he could protect Mommy and talk to his Daddy…

“Thank you Peter,” Toni whispered before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll check on you again after Daddy leaves. Good night. I love you.”

“Night Mommy. Love you too,” Peter replied. He cuddled his bear close and watched his Mommy leave. He didn’t want to sleep, even as he forced himself to close his eyes. It was like he was waiting for a monster to come. Except the monster was real, and it wasn’t coming for him.

Toni closed Peter’s door. After some deep breaths to steel her nerve, she headed back to the kitchen.

**8:10 PM**

Steve was waiting for her, fingers tapping on the counter impatiently. His blue eyes were hard and near-cruel as he looked at her. They were the same eyes that looked up at her from Peter’s face, but there was no way anyone could ever confuse the two.

“Peter should be asleep in about ten minutes. He’s usually pretty good about that,” Toni’s words were just above a mumble. She ran a shaking hand through her hair and grimaced slightly at the tangled bits from the wine. Those damn eyes kept staring at her, and she was trying any means to distract herself.

Steve nodded absently. He pushed himself off the counter and headed toward her. It couldn’t have been more than two heartbeats before he was there, big hand pressed against the small of her back, pulling Toni to him. “And he’ll stay asleep?” he hummed, not sounding as though he actually cared. “He won’t be interrupting us?”

Toni fidgeted. Panic swelled in her chest and she bit her lip to keep from saying something she’d regret. “Y-Yeah but...what would he be interrupting? You have Natasha now and...and whoever else you want. Why would you want me?” It was all in vain. She knew that. Talking her way out of this wouldn’t work, but damn it, Toni had to try. Just to tell herself that later, she did everything she could. So Steve could know, really _know_ , that she didn’t want this. Didn’t want him.

“Natasha’s not nearly as tight as you,” Steve murmured, blue eyes alight with a familiar fire. It made Toni sick to her stomach. “You’re right, I can have anyone I wanted. I could get one of those stupid little fucks that works for me to suck my cock if I wanted to. But that’s not what I want, Toni.” He leaned down, face nearly level with hers. The fingers of his free hand hooked onto the bottom of her dress and pulled her even closer. “You shouldn’t have left me, sweetheart. I was taking care of you. I protected you...bought you pretty things. You had _everything_ when you were my wife.”

“You _hurt_ me,” Toni whispered. “I left because you were going to go too far one day and I didn’t...I wasn’t…” she stopped, because the truth wouldn’t serve her well here. Steve didn’t care about why she really left, only that she had. It’d be better to lie. It was less likely to piss him off. “I didn’t want to turn into my mother.” There. An acceptable enough answer. Everyone knew of Maria Stark’s long-suffering life with Howard.

Maybe it wasn’t as much of a lie as she would like.

“You always had to go and piss me off,” Steve growled lowly as his hand came up to slip under the shoulder strap of her dress. “I’m going to give my son the life he deserves, understand? You won’t get in the way of that. I earned this for him.” All of his hard work wouldn’t be for nothing. He wouldn’t let it.

"I didn't try to," Toni replied softly. "I wanted to keep you happy, but no matter what I did it wasn't enough." Steve didn't want an equal partner, not truly. He wanted a pretty wife to listen to his every order and fulfill his every whim. Toni couldn't be that, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't be happy as a perfect little mob wife--shopping, having dinners, fucking, looking pretty--it wasn't the life she wanted. "You beat me to get your frustration out. It wasn't always something I did..." She protested, but it was the same arguments, only rehashed to a different time and place.

Slightly shaking hands reached up and were placed on Steve's cheeks. "I know, Steve...I know you want what's best for Peter but please..." But please what? Steve would never stop. He wouldn't quit the business. He wouldn't leave them alone. Toni had nothing over Steve, no leverage, no pull..."Our son doesn't deserve to watch his mother and father fight, or watch his father hurt his mother." Toni searched those eyes for something, some hint that Steve understood or at least sympathized with her.

She found nothing.

"That's on _you_ ," He snapped. "You don't want him seeing this? Then you should prevent it." It was the same old argument. He didn't have to make sense. In Steve’s mind, he was right. She was the problem. "You fucking _think_ too much. That's your problem. Woulda thought your daddy taught you to keep your mouth shut--guess not." He placed his hand on the back of her head in a familiar threat. "I'll shut you up." He growled, "You don't know--if you knew. You wouldn't have dragged him away to this shitty apartment. He had _everything_. You wanted out? Fine. But I wasn't going to let you take my son with you. You brought this on yourself."

The idea that she could prevent this in any way, shape, or form was laughable, but there was nothing funny about the situation at hand. When that big hand pressed against the back of her head, Toni let her hands slip from Steve's cheeks. Nothing she did ever worked, and in the years she had been married to Steve she tried everything she could think of to keep him happy. At the mention of her father, she bit her lip and skirted her gaze away, looking down.

"He's my son too," she replied, voice quiet but firm. "I wasn't going to leave him alone in a house filled with mobsters." _Not in that house, with so many men who hated him._ Toni knew she didn't bring this hell upon herself. No one could possibly ask for or warrant this sort of thing, no matter what they did. Steve was just...Steve. He looked outward to find blame. It wasn't that he thought he was a good man, it was just that, in his eyes, everyone deserved what was coming to them.    

"My men." Steve corrected, tightening his grip on her. "My men. My house. My rules. He's safe around them. They wouldn't dare let _anything_ happen to him." He wasn't stupid; he could see the way some of those boys resented Peter. Hated him, even...but they all knew what Steve was capable of. And they knew keeping Peter safe was the best and only way to keep Steve happy. "I'll fuck the stupid out of you." He threatened, gripping her hair a little harder--hard enough for it to hurt. "Fuck that brain right out of your head- see what kind of mouth you have on you when you’re screaming."

Toni whimpered and without conscious thought, one of her hands raised to Steve's at the back of her head, trying to relieve the grip he hand if only a little bit. "Steve, stop," she said, trying to be firm when she was really terrified. "Just...just think for a second, OK? I don't want you. You don't want me either. You have Natasha and literally anyone else," she pleaded, trying to rationalize with him. "And Peter's right there. He shouldn't...he shouldn't hear or see something like...like this. He'll wake up. You don't want that, I know you don't." And she hated herself with every bit of her being that she was literally begging Steve not to do this when she knew well-enough that it was going to happen regardless of her feelings on the matter.

That was strike three.

Steve snapped when he felt her hand on top of his. HIs other hand raised and made hard contact with her face. Toni couldn’t stop the cry of pain that escaped her, nor the whimpers that followed as he pulled her by her hair.

"Don't." He growled, pulling hard on her hair and yanked her with him toward her bedroom. There was only the briefest of pauses as he picked the other untouched glass of wine up off the table, as casually as he would have if he wasn’t in the process of harming his ex-wife.

"Peter will stay in his room--just like you said he would. And you'll keep your whore mouth shut. You can at _least_ do _that_ right."

He shoved open the door to Toni's bedroom, still dragging the woman by her hair. He only released her to throw her against the bed like a rag doll. "You're _mine_ ." After throwing the rest of the wine back, Steve placed the empty glass on the bedside table. Just to be safe, he turned and locked her bedroom door...keep Peter from finding his way in. "You understand that? I can have Natasha. Hell, I could show up at her apartment right now and we'd fuck till no tomorrow. I can have any bitch I want--but _you_ belong to _me_."

She didn't belong to Steve. She didn't, not anymore, not after the divorce. Still, Toni knew that talking would only make this worse. Protesting would yield nothing, just increase the chances of waking up Peter. So Toni only shook her head in an attempt to deny everything. Tears pricked her eyes, and despite knowing it wouldn't help, she tried one last time to appeal to him. "Steve, please don't do this," she whispered. "Please..."

"Shut up," Steve growled, turning around to face her. He crossed the room in a few, long steps. "Don't. Talk." He leaned over her, bulking arm and shoulders making him seem so much bigger when he was leaning over her like that. "Shut up. You keep quiet. And this won't have to hurt."

He was lying. Toni knew he was lying. This was going to hurt no matter what she did. Part of her, the small flame of snark that he hadn’t been able to extinguish, wanted to taunt him and ask which Steve wanted; for her to scream, or for her to be quiet? She tamped that urge down. It would only lead to more pain and the possibility of Peter overhearing. So instead, Toni only nodded as a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

Steve leaned down slowly, as though testing Toni’s resolve. When he was close enough, he finally crashed their lips together, forced his mouth on hers. His big, rough hands slipped beneath the straps of her dress and began to pull them down.

This was happening. This was happening whether she wanted it to or not--that's just the way things went with Steve, how it had nearly always been between them. There was no talking about it. No discussion. It was what Steve wanted, or nothing.

Toni was helpless to do anything but comply.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock, Sam, and Bucky talk about Toni and outright blame her for the way Steve treats her. Steve chokes Toni in front of Peter, forcing Peter to throw a wine glass at Steve's face to let her go. Toni falls in the glass and cuts herself. Peter also gets a small cut. Steve's face is also cut up. Steve kisses and touches Toni, which she obviously doesn't want. He hits her and drags her to her bedroom.  
> Please, please leave a comment and kudos. They do really make my day and I love hearing what you guys think.


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